


prison of a past life

by louiehonie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A lot of past lives, A lot of religious backlore but don’t worry it doesn’t come off as preachy, But what’s new, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Gore, Harry’s really sappy when he’s in love and it’s DISGUSTING, Human/Vampire Relationship, I do actually plan on finishing this fic bc it is my BABY, I don’t know what else to say here I’m not sorry I wrote this, I will probably provide a footnote page for the lore which you can find on my tumblr, Louis is a diva and Harry is basically Edward Cullen but somehow far more emo, Louis is somehow worse, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Niall is a bisexual disaster which we stan, Sharing a Bed, Slow(ish) Burn, Smut, This is mostly a Larry fic with a dash of side parings as usual xo, Vampire AU, Vampire Sex, Vampire/Witch Relationship, a blue bloods au, alot of historical inaccuracies, also I will die before I write Z with any of the women he’s canonically linked to, and maybe the songs I played to death writing this thing, and way too many flashbacks, as an ex catholic it is my god given right to make the story of heaven more gay, but I don’t play up the vampire/werewolf trope it bores me, i hate them, i wrote this instead of sleeping but what else is there to do during quarantine, it doesn’t make the impulses behind those scenes any less valid, lascivious threesomes, liam is...pure of heart....dumb of ass, lord knows I have yet to finish my first series on here or my ml fic, louis is baby and I would DIE for him, mentions of blood and blood drinking, mentions of self harm by fast healing vampires, rip to zarry it’s even dead in this fic, should be in four to five parts but don’t hold me to it, tears and booze wrote most of this fic, there are also lesbian witches, there are also witches, they are problematic and I won’t get into it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:43:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 52,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louiehonie/pseuds/louiehonie
Summary: Louis was Uriel; the Light of God.He was Harry’s guiding star, the way back to righteousness, the balance of levity to Harry’s heavy darkness, the Orpheus to his Eurydice. He was in all essence, the other half of Harry’s soul.In spurning Harry when they were finally together again, all he was doing was killing them both and for once in nearly all of his lives, Harry didn’t know what he was supposed to do because this had never happened before.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne/Original Female Character(s), Niall Horan/Liam Payne, Niall Horan/Zayn Malik/Original Female Character(s), Zayn Malik/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	prison of a past life

_”you can never truly unlove somebody. it may change its shape, but it is always there.”_

**_Part I_ **

* * *

  
On a cold early morning the first week of September, Louis Tomlinson started his first day back at Duchesne Academy heart full with the hope his final year would pass quickly and without incident.

As one of the few people in his school with a modest bank account and way of living; he took the bus or went on foot to school as opposed to taking a ludicrously expensive cab ride halfway across the city. He did not have access to a vehicle of his own to drive nor did he have the luxury of a chauffeur that usually accompanied a nondescript town car, but he didn’t complain. The walk was usually invigorating and the bus stop always had interesting individuals to interact with while waiting, even if some days the people Louis shared public transit with could be too interesting for so early in the morning.

That was just New York for you.

The minute he stepped out the door of his shabby manor on Riverside Drive with a thermos of coffee in hand, hair still slightly damp from his shower and dressed in his uniform (a crisp white button up and blazer embroidered with the Academy’s crest), he reasoned he’d woken up in plenty of time to stretch his legs and opted for a leisurely walk.

The fresh air and headphones buried in his ears to drown out the noise of the city gave him the time to gather his thoughts and prepare himself for the first day back. Knowing he was only returning to that awful place out of duty to his family, (most of whom were estranged or dead already) he honestly didn’t see the point in continuing the exhaustive charade for the sake of something as vapid as his reputation. He’d half wondered if anyone would really be upset with him if he graduated from a public school this year instead or if such an action would be grounds for the emancipation from a certain Blood Bank Committee he was expected to be a part of.

The idea amused him enough to feel less trepidation about his first day back, but it was immediately replaced by worry as he made his way through enormous front doors of the Academy; he knew he was cutting it close by taking his time on his commute that morning and he was going to have to run the rest of the way. Hurrying to unwind his scarf and stuff his belongings in his locker, he rushed to the Chapel of the ancient Academy, an outbuilding that had hardly been restored or renovated since the 1600’s where they held all their major announcements. He dove through the old wooden doors with seconds to spare to half fall half slide into the seat saved for him in one of the back pews by his best friend and Conduit, Niall Horan.

Niall’s lips twitched in amusement at Louis’ flushed features, his high cheekbones pink as lambskin and his blue eyes sparkling like cut gemstones from the exertion of his sprint to arrive at the last minute.

“It’s okay, you made it in plenty of time. Also, you’ve got a leaf in your hair.”Niall picks it out as he’s speaking, eyes soft and focused on plucking said oak leaf from Louis’ chestnut hair, tousled by the wind and a little product after his shower.  
  
Niall’s cheeks tint a similar shade to Louis’ at the softness of his own gesture, while Louis bumps his shoulder against Niall’s in thanks and turns to focus on the Dean stepping up behind the podium on the stage in front of the pews, the teachers seated in the rows lining the stage around her.

She wore slim grey blazer tailored to fit her pear shaped figure in a flattering way, a knee length pencil skirt fashioned in the same wool blend as her jacket, a stiff no-nonsense expression on her face; an expression matched by her faculty all similarly dressed in the typically formal attire of a Duchesne Professor; sensible slacks, cardigans and pantsuits, all utterly boring cuts, plain colours and astonishingly expensive for such drab attire.

As Louis settled in comfortably next to his friend and tuned out most of the Dean’s ‘Welcome Back’ prattle, he felt his spine tingle as a familiar gaze bored into the back of his head from several seats away. Rolling his eyes but keeping his head held high and his gaze focused on Dean Stoker, Louis was tersely aware he was not quite ready for that particular encounter this early in the morning and on the first day back to boot, while also unable to lie to himself about the fact that it would be happening at some point eventually today.

His shoulders squared, and he arched his perfectly shaped brows, smoothing his expression in what he hoped was a look of casual indifference (but judging by Niall’s barley audible snort, it wasn’t).

“—furthermore, I know for some of you here this year may be your last, but please don't let that interfere with how hard you’ve worked to achieve your goals. Your final year is crucial for your success, and for those of you graduating this year on the Committee, we want to additionally thank you for all you have done for this school in your time here.”

Dean Stoker’s eyes sweep the room, landing on select students (including Louis), while the rest of the students that go ignored shift uncomfortably in the pews, fully aware of the unspoken inexplicable divide between themselves and their peers.

“You all have very bright futures ahead of you and can rest assured we are providing you with the best references, placements, internships, and opportunities as long as you work as hard this year as you have for the last three. Now, your timetables have been emailed to you over the summer and your classes will begin shortly. If for some unfathomable reason, you haven’t checked you email over the entirety of the summer break, or you have recently enrolled and have not received your schedule, you will find physical timetables available in the Administration office on the first day of each new term. Your classes will begin shortly, you will not receive demerits if you are late for class today, but this courtesy is only extended to you on the first day back, so don’t make a habit of being tardy. That will be all.”

Her dismissal was impersonal and brief as always but Louis was grateful for it, eager to get out of the draughty old chapel and head to his first class of the day with Niall. He rose with the rest of his classmates, closely following his best friend out from in-between the pews, trying to keep to himself and not bump into any particular students he may or may not be avoiding. Louis managed to pick his way towards the chapel doors unscathed while also hiding behind his Conduit with just a little aid from some good old fashioned compulsion.

His social status was beyond dismal and he was fully aware of that. Despite being on the Committee, and a true Blue Blood through and through, Louis wasn’t super popular among his classmates and thanks to what he and Niall were referring to as the Fateful Incident last year, he found he had become even less so.

“I have to say as far as my cycles go, I’m enjoying this one the least.”He confides in Niall as he hitches his tattered leather bag higher up over his shoulder and roots through his locker for the cellphone he’d carelessly tossed in before the morning announcements, their classmates passing by them in a frenzied hurry to get to first period before the last bell sounded. 

Niall leaned against his locker beside Louis’ and tutted; already set to head for class but waiting around for his best friend to gather his things out of habit and a deeply rooted loyalty.“Would that be because we’re taking so many bullshit AP courses this year or because Styles is in every single class with you this term, excluding your electives?” 

Niall winces in sympathy when in response to his question, Louis’ head shoots up and collides with the top shelf in his locker, the audible clang! echoing inside the tiny compartment.

“Oh for God’s sakes Niall!”Louis massages the top of his head dramatically and shoots a pitiful look at his Conduit while pulling himself out of his locker, his phone clenched in his other hand.

“My ‘electives’ as you like to call them is the Committee, and the many philanthropies founded by the Committee and it’s not exactly like it was my choice to be a part of it. And you know damn well as I that he’s on the Committee too. I didn’t realize he would also be in all my classes this year. That’s just...”

He screws his face up and sighs, shaking his head a little.“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to pay any attention to him, and hopefully he’ll extend the same courtesy considering how things went down at the end of last year.” 

Louis is surprised when instead of agreeing or saying something encouraging, Niall just frowns at him like he has half a mind to argue and then seems to think better of it and shrugs his shoulders.

“Whatever you say.”Niall merely sighs diplomatically, then pushes Louis’ locker closed for him pushing his friend to get a move on, “come on dude, we’re going to be late.”

By the time they sneak into AP Latin, Professor Waldorf is deep in the middle of a lecture and the second his steely eyes catch sight of the newcomers and his gaze locks with Louis’, the youth finds himself thrown headfirst into a flashback:

_wearing a muslin tunic of the scratchiest fabric, staunching the flow of blood from the neck of the man gazing back at him, fear flooding his grey eyes as he knew his cycle was at its end, gripping Louis’ arm like a lifeline._

_“S-save me. Please, before I’m Corrupted—”_

—Louis shakes his head in annoyance and snaps back to the present, his eyes slitting in disdain as he glares at his professor, knowing the man looking back at him had been in the midst of reliving that memory too. He scowls and clenches his fists, wishing not for the first time ever since he’d begun to have those god awful flashbacks, that he was not a vampire.

Professor Waldorf (or Cosmas as Louis had known him back then) scowled at the latecomers in a way that didn’t bode well for them in the slightest.

“Tardy seems like a poor way to start the first day of your senior year, Tomlinson. Horan.”

Professor Waldorf at first spoke only to the Blue Blood; his obvious indifference to Red Bloods and his disdain at the continued use of Conduits by some Blue Bloods a little obvious and a lot insulting.

“I see despite your past three years at this academy the pair of you are still incapable of remembering what time the first period starts. I think you’ll find it’s in your best interest to split up when you’re in my class so you can actually hope to learn something this term. Find yourselves some new desk mates and don’t let me ever catch you interrupting my lecture again.”

Waldorf resumes writing on the board once he’s felt he’s publicly embarrassed and dismissed the two latecomers sufficiently without a second thought. The tips of Niall’s ears were red and his face was equally blotchy with embarrassment, Louis’ hands were still in tight fists. A few snickers circled the room from certain classmates, as most of Louis’ fellow Blue Blood peers were just as pompous and narrow minded as their snide Professor. Louis felt his wisdom teeth slip out in aggravation, his demeanour shifting into something more like his true form for a second, a massive shadow cast on the wall behind him in the blink of an eye while an awed hush hung over the room as his classmates either regarded him warily or in deep confusion.

Louis didn’t dare look to his left where he knew a familiar pair of flashing green eyes were boring into him like a diamond tipped drill, he just took a deep breath instead and forced himself to relax.

Niall however looked only further embarrassed at the display of aggression on his best friend’s part and silently slid into an empty seat beside Zayn Malik; the only other Blue Blood more of an outcast than Louis himself. The dark haired youth didn’t even look up from his notebook to acknowledge his new desk mate, just kept his head down, copying his notes meticulously. There was an assumed agreement with anyone who’d ever shared a desk space with the vampire that as long as they let him get his work done, and they did not bother him it would be a mutually peaceful semester.

The Red Blood students seemed quite frightened of him whereas Louis knew the Blue Bloods regarded the sullen lad quite poorly not out of fear, but out of disdain. He’d heard the rumours himself, but he chose not to judge.

Wouldn’t that make him the biggest hypocrite if he did?

Unfortunately for Louis when Niall plunked down next to Zayn, that meant the only other spot available in the classroom was next to Styles and he cursed to the highest heavens as he stomped his way over to his new seat, slouching and leaning as far away from his desk mate as possible as he sat down, glaring at his Professor in an almost murderous rage.

Waldorf eyed the uncomfortable new seating arrangement with barely veiled amusement before announcing to the class,

“now that we’re all here I want to say: welcome back and get comfortable. Where you are placed now will be your designated seats for the rest of the term.”

Most of the class seemed noncommittal at the notion, due to the fact they’d gotten to class on time and had picked seats next to someone they’d actually enjoy sitting with. Even Zayn’s relaxed indifference to Niall didn’t seem to bother the cheerful brunette in the slightest, and somehow even more surprisingly, the two of them already seemed to have their heads down in conversation, more than likely on their way to becoming something of acquaintances.

(Due to how kind and genuine Niall happened to be he usually gave one little choice not to like him, even albeit begrudgingly in Zayn’s case.)

But Louis? Louis was in literal hell.

He steals a glance to his left, wilting when he sees that Styles’ gaze has been on him for a while now, leaning back arrogantly in his seat as if he were seated upon a throne — which Louis knows they both have not done in quite a few millennia, but one never forgets the feeling — his jaw set in an angry clench, eyes burning with the diatribe he was clearly longing to throw at Louis now uncomfortably seated beside him.

“Did you have a pleasant summer?”

Styles eventually breaks the silence with a question aimed at Louis in a tone that could be perceived as mild; were it not for the overly conspicuous storm brewing underneath it. The hot-headed vampire had always been bad at tamping down his emotions, usually wore them right on his sleeve.

“I’m sure you can only imagine how mine was.”

He knows that Styles is looking for a fight but for the moment, Louis can’t be assed to give him the satisfaction of one.

“Listen man, I know that you’re upset with me but we are not doing this right now. Don’t start in on me already, it’s the first day back for crying out loud.”

Louis sighs as he opens his laptop and turns to face the front of the room, pretending to hang on to their windbag of a Professor’s lesson as opposed paying any attention to the irritable desk mate he’s now trapped with.

With a sigh of reluctance but not another word, —as he always has the infuriating habit of sort of complying with whatever Louis requests of him— Styles turns away from Louis to face the front too but as he does, the lights dim. Then the room seems to swirl into a kaleidoscope of colours and shapes, only stopping when Louis finds himself seated on the ledge of a second story balcony overlooking a hedge maze in the centre of the most beautifully landscaped French garden, the sprawling grounds surrounding turning reddish gold in the slowly approaching dusk.

It’s a sunset he’s seen before, many lifetimes ago that stains the clouds blood red in a way Louis couldn’t really ever forget if he tried.

There’s more familiarity in the grounds surrounding the chateau that towers above it all. He knows exactly where he is, what lifetime this is from and he growls, swinging his feet in the empty air below the balcony ledge as he takes it all in, feeling a biting nostalgia stinging his nose and eyes and he hates Styles a little more than he did five seconds prior for bringing up these unbidden memories Louis did not ask for. He blinked against the almost jet-lag like headache that settled in between his eyebrows when he was sucked into the glom so unceremoniously like that and shot the vampire beside him a furious look.

“Was this really necessary of you?”He flinched at the sound of his own voice, more assertive and powerful in the glom due to the fact it had the tendency to bring out one’s true self, another reason he tended not to venture into it if he could help it.

“You need to stop avoiding me, Uriel.”

Styles turns to Louis’ with an almost pleading gaze, the glom making him infuriatingly more handsome than before, his eyes shining flatly like green sea glass with deep shadows underneath them. His usually very pink lips almost stained crimson, his dark hair wild and long, curling above strong shoulders belying the barest shadow of his wings, an imperceptible shimmer of his horns giving the slightest hint as to what truly lay under the surface,“and you need to stop avoiding your destiny.”

His destiny. What a load of bull.

Louis rolled his eyes and remained resolute in his defiance, “well pardon your ego there, but I’d hardly refer to pledging myself to an arrogant bastard I barely know in this lifetime and losing all my free will and freedom to him as my destiny.”He treats the last word with the iciest scorn he can muster, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance as he speaks, “and stop calling me Uriel, I hate it when you do that. My name is Louis Tomlinson.”

If the other vampire was hurt by Louis’ dispassion he didn’t show it, he just leaned against the railing Louis was seated on and shut his eyes, took a deep breath, only opening them after he’d exhaled. His gaze flicked away from Louis to stare out at the gardens below them, hazy in the glow of the last rays of the day, with the fingertips of darkness inching its reach across the expansive grounds.

“This is bigger than the fact you want to turn your back on our bond and on your true self.” Styles eventually says to him in a tight, doleful voice,“there are other much larger matters that are affecting Covens all over the world and you’re being incredibly selfish when we need you most desperately. But you’re right, we aren’t doing this now. We’ll do it later, when I can have your full undivided attention and when you’ve grown up a little; something I was hoping you would do after I gave you space and time to ‘process everything’ this summer like you asked— no, demanded of me.” 

He shakes his head and stares at Louis in obvious displeasure as he continues,“I was hopeful up until we spoke today that you’d be willing to listen to reason, but now I can see that still has yet to be the case. Disappointing, but not entirely unexpected, as you’re not shaping up to be half the man I thought you would be this cycle, Louis.”

Before Louis can respond to the denunciations flung in his face, he’s unceremoniously vaulted back into the classroom.It’s quiet in the room and Styles is staring ahead, copying the lecture carefully in his notebook, not even indicating he’d been speaking down to Louis moments before. With a huff of resignation Louis pulled his laptop towards himself so violently that he heard a troubling noise and winced. Yet as he had a lot of notes to copy in a small amount of time, he smashed the keys with more force than necessary, taking everything down at near impossible speed, still shaking in fury at the brief but scathing conversation he’d just had with his alleged bond mate. 

As he was working through the entire first lecture there was an email notification at the corner of his screen from Niall. He clicked on it sneakily, flitting his gaze to and fro before opening it:

**‘Going to R.A.R.E for lunch, Z’s coming too.**

**Ignore Harry, you know he only winds you up because you make it way too easy for him.’**

Rolling his eyes, Louis closes the email without responding and scowls when he catches Styles smirking defiantly at him, clearly having read Niall’s message as well. He holds his tongue instead of telling the asshole off, and tries to shut off his mind so Styles can’t bother him in the glom either, trying to focus instead on making it through one of the most useless classes he had to take this term.

Louis had to believe by now Latin was a truly well and dead language if after so many cycles on this wretched planet he couldn’t even remember how to speak it anymore.

**†**

Ever since he came of age in his current blood cycle, embraced his transformation, began to rediscover some of his more recent lives, and fully became an esteemed member of his Coven, Harry Styles had become driven; there was no other word for it.

He had been determined to fully immerse himself in it all and cast his human identity aside in order become to one with all his past lives. He was striving to achieve something near impossible to do before his Sunset Years were over; have full access to every single one of his memories from the Beginning.

Living without something one knew they once had and were fully capable of having again was nothing short of infuriating, like being born without working limbs but knowing in the back of your mind that you always had the power to walk. It drove him into fits near of hysteria when he first began his transformation, terrified of forgetting a single little detail of the lives he’d lived. He felt like he was putting together a jigsaw puzzle with obvious missing pieces, yet was in denial of its incompleteness, still trying to assemble his puzzle without them.

He felt like he could see that everything he hoped for, (everything he ever wanted once he first awoke in this life) falling apart right in front of his eyes, while as an added injury his vampire sight memorized and magnified every painful detail slowly and clearly enough for him to replay it over and over again.

Once, Harry had found comfort in a step by step life plan he’d made for himself. He was to eventually take over his cycle father’s role in the Coven as Regis, and lead its North American Sanction out of the rubble it was slowly finding itself disintegrating into.

He was sick to death of this lazy long suffering crop of Blue Bloods, souls who had once likened themselves to Gods and Goddesses now trifling with the mundane, and gorging themselves on Red Bloods and worse; Red Blood amusements and frivolities. These formerly magnificent ancient beings were content to spend their days as idle and as complacent as those they once mocked and scorned, only valued as a life source.They had grown soft. 

But Harry knew in order to become Regis one needed a certain image, the support of his people for starters and a number of other lucrative titles he would need to earn on his own to prove that he was capable of leadership. He knew in order to save this sinking vessel he would need the perfect life, the perfect education, the perfect reputation and of course; the perfect bond mate.

He didn’t fail to see the irony in that his predetermined soulmate, the One for him, his Twin in Light and Darkness that he had endlessly pledged himself to lifetime after lifetime had turned out to be none other than Louis Tomlinson; the only member of their Coven that Harry didn’t already have eating from the palm of his hand.

Oh how that had thrown a violent wrench into his well cultivated plans.

Then to be publicly spurned by Louis last year when the irate boy had refused to even associate with him, let alone talk about their duty to their Coven or their duty to each other, it was as though the perfectly mapped out future Harry had been imagining for himself and for the Coven was slipping through his fingers faster than he could get a grip on it, and the icing on the cake was that he’d humiliated himself in front of his classmates, taking his royalty-on-campus status down quite a few horrifying pegs.

The entire school thought —or rather knew by now— that he was obsessed with Louis, and as a result his cycle parents forced him to spend his summer vacation in Francefor ‘a change of pace’, which he knew to really take as;

_‘if you don’t get a grip on yourself, you will be living with the European Sanction full time.’_

But the most infuriating part?

In every other lifetime, everything Harry worked for had been achieved because Louis was by his side. Louis wanted him then, loved him even. He was already bound to him before they had a ceremony, was already accepting his role as the one to lead them out of the darkness and into the light, was already taking Harry’s hand in his and leading him to wherever their bonding was taking place in that cycle with a twinkle in his eye and a lightness to his step.

Sure there had been some false starts, betrayals and enemies one couldn’t have conceived possible, but Harry had handled it all because of who was at his side. Louis had always been Harry’s constant and in the deepest recesses of his memories his beloved was always there.

He was right beside Harry when they wandered a dark and empty desert after a long fall from Paradise. He was there when they were fleeing for their lives to the New World with the breath of their enemy hot on their necks. He was there when they were living as filthily bourgeoise as possible before a certain Revolution took them for all they had, dragged them out in the streets, and forced them to make a last ditch attempt to cycle out early.

When they had monuments erected in their likenesses, when they ruled as Gods on Earth in sweaty jungle civilizations living hidden expertly away from the rest of the world, Louis had bonded with Harry on the top of a pyramid in a torrential tropic thunderstorm; the torches, lightning and the _illuminata_ — an internal glow that only enabled other vampires to see their kind in pure darkness— the sole discernible way anyone could witness the ceremony.

Louis was Uriel; the Light of God.

He was Harry’s guiding star, the way back to righteousness, the balance of levity to Harry’s heavy darkness, the Orpheus to his Eurydice. He was in all essence, the other half of Harry’s soul. In spurning Harry when they were finally together again, all he was doing was killing them both and for once in nearly all of his lives, Harry didn’t know what he was supposed to do because this had never happened before.So naturally he needed a spa day.

“I mean it’s the first day back to school and our senior year to boot, you don’t think it’s a bad idea to ditch class to go to an underground spa for massages, diamond face creams, and cocktails before it’s even lunchtime?”

Liam Payne was grumbling underneath the seaweed wrap he was supposed to be mellowing out in, his constant whining a slight thorn in Harry’s side to an otherwise peaceful refuge from another disappointing encounter with his incredibly stubborn and loathsomely handsome bond mate.

“I’m losing him, Liam.”

Harry lifts a chilled cucumber off his eyelid to glare at the pouty brown eyed beauty beside him sliding around uncomfortably in his seaweed wrap instead of laying still like Harry is. Liam’s grumbling ceases at the tone in his heavenly brother’s voice, his face growing contrite and worried as Harry continues to vent about what’s bothering him.

“Sébastien said If I can’t convince Louis to do the Bonding Ceremony with me by the end of the year, the Elders are going to give up on us repairing our bond and burn his blood. They normally don’t push for bonding ceremonies when a pair is this early in cycle but the fact that Louis is showing such aversion to it is troubling to them, hence the very rash decisions they’re making. I don’t care if he wants to hate me, but I won’t have him killed because of me.”

His voice is edging on his regrettably trademarked hysteria and he slumps inside his seaweed wrap, visibly deflated and unable to go into it any further for the time being, “so let me have my thousandth quarter-life-crisis in peace, and stop complaining to me about matters as trivial and as meaningless as school if that’s what we can even call the slapdash education system we’re muddling about in this lifetime.”

Liam’s still wiggling around in his seaweed encasement in evident revulsion, practically rolling out of it so he can try to get a better look at his friend, his face still screwed up in disgust at the slimy wrap, but his eyes are sympathetic.“Have you told Louis of your concerns?” He asks his best friend quietly.

Harry shakes his head, careful not to dislodge his 48k gold flake and aloe mask with the action, “he hasn’t exactly given me the chance. He never lets me get him alone to speak to him anymore. He’s even shut me out in the glom.”

“So write to him.” Liam suggests, “send the letter anonymously so he actually reads it, and maybe he can get the bigger picture here.”

“I’m desperate enough to try almost anything at this point.” Harry admits, prickled by the sympathetic look Liam is still giving him in response, slapping his cucumber back over his eye with a huff.

He did not need pity, he just needed a plan. The only problem he still isn’t voicing to Liam is the fact there were other niggling concerns in the back of his brain, asking him if having Louis bond with him if only out of fear for the consequence or out of obligation rather than out of love will really mean the same to him as their previous bondings had meant and would it make things between them more difficult? 

And worse, what if even after everything they’d been through together, there wasn’t anything Harry could say to make Louis consider recommitting to the bond? What if this cycle had left Louis so frustrated and unmoved, he didn't care if they called him a traitor and burnt his blood? He recalled that horrible afternoon when he’d discovered the truth about his bond mate, remembered how Louis had screamed at him that he didn’t even ask to be a Blue Blood in the first place let alone wind up allegedly betrothed to one as despicable as Harry.

Louis seemed so miserable since he’d awoken in this cycle and discovered what he truly was, it scared Harry into wondering if there was a part of his soulmate that wanted to die.

Harry couldn’t allow himself a second thought on it, merely signalled he was finished with his wrap and clearly wanted to proceed to the fire heated pool to hopefully simmer all this bad energy right out of his pores.

**†**

With a constant reputation that he didn’t seem on keen on making friends or talking to people half the time one would encounter him, Louis was reasonably startled when Zayn sat across from the other Blue Blood at lunchtime and ensnared him in a sharp gaze the colour of molten honey; not wearing his usual look of bored indifference, but one of recognition and respect.

“Its been a minute Uriel.”He props his head on his chin, his tongue pushed up behind his teeth in a genuine smile as their eyes met, looking for all the world exactly like the beautiful fallen angel that he was, “you look well.”

Louis rolls his eyes, “I barely remember that name anymore. It’s just Louis now, if you don’t mind.”

Before Zayn can open his mouth to respond a waitress appears out of thin air, or more appropriately uses the _velox_ , —the vampiric ability to move so quickly you’re nearly invisible to the human eye — to set plates of sushi and seared tuna down for Zayn and Niall, a bowl of Kitfo for Louis, tops up their sparkling water, and then leaves without a word.

Zayn shrugs, more invested in his food now that it’s in front of him, “you and I always had a flair for the unique names, but the one for this cycle is a bit fussy sounding if you ask me.”

Louis arcs an eyebrow, unimpressed, “I didn’t.” He snaps back.

Zayn merely smiles in an infuriatingly patient kind of way at Louis, and takes a bite of his seared tuna steak, still raw, pink, and juicy the way Blue Bloods preferred to have their food prepared if they bothered to eat food at all after their Sunset Years.

It was difficult to deal with vampiric transitions while so many trendy vegan restaurants kept popping up all over Louis’ favourite borough, and as a result Louis kept finding himself worn and exhausted as he began coming into his memories with violent frequency lately. He’d been holding off on performing the much needed Sacred Kiss, in no mood to truly delve into his true vampire abilities and habits any time soon but he resented the toll it was taking on his energy. The byproduct of his choice made restaurants such as this one something of a necessity and there was an upside to it Louis could be grateful for. 

_R.A.R.E_ was run by Blue Bloods, boasted a chef with three Michelin stars, had the most expansive menu raging from all kinds of raw meat dishes from all over the world, was incredibly casual in atmosphere for such a high profile venue, and thanks to Louis’ linage it was a place he’d happily been eating at for free for as long as he could remember.

(He vaguely recalls a lifetime or two ago he may have bought the building the restaurant now resides in, and naturally the lease is still in his family name.)

Niall was picking listlessly at his own plate of scallop maki rolls, his attention focused on an old book he’d brought with him, clearly dead to the world until the omnibus in his hands had been thoroughly read and digested before his meal was.

Louis knew better than to bother him, and ripped a piece of the hand flattened bread from his plate to scoop a mouthful of the perfectly spiced raw beef from the bowl in front of him into his mouth, more interested in letting the flavourful bite melt on his tongue than asking Niall what he was so invested in. But while Louis digs into his lunch, the silence surrounding the table prickles at him in an irritating way due to their newest addition.

He lets it go for a few minutes until he finally looks up, and frowns when he notices the skeptical looks Zayn has been throwing at him. He sets down the piece of injera he was using to scoop up his fifth mouthful of food and crosses his arms in a huff.

“What?” He demands of the aloof vampire sitting across from him.

“Do you find it wise to continue to deny yourself a base instinct not just necessary for your evolution, but for your very survival? You’re more than of appropriate age for it to be considered acceptable to the Committee, not to mention—”

“—if I’m not one to judge others on their personal choices, it would be wonderful if they didn’t judge me for mine.” Louis interrupts the other vampire pointedly.

Zayn was trying to ask him about the Kiss, and that was none of his business, Louis scowled at the intrusiveness on his privacy, but the lad across from him merely looked unimpressed and continued to press the issue instead of taking a fucking hint.

“My indiscretions aside, I still drank from the vein. I may not have the protection of the Coven anymore, but I still did what I knew was imperative to my survival, what was natural to my being. Its a wonder you’ve made it this far into your Sunset Years without needing a Familiar. But then again, you always were the strongest out of us all, weren’t you, Uriel?”Zayn bit into another piece of tuna, savouring the flavour before continuing; 

“we’re at war again, I may not be as welcome a member of the Committee as I was before but I still understand the gravity of the situation. I have tried to get in contact with the Elders, and have made to lend my services to the Coven, pariah status be damned. So why haven’t you done the same? Why are you turning your back on us when we need your strength the most?”

As irascible cerulean eyes locked onto inquisitive amber ones, Louis found himself standing aboard a tall and imposing ship in the middle of a hurricane.

_Lightning lashed while sheets of icy rain soaked him to the bone. His chest was heaving with exertion, his voice lost somewhere in a ball of fear that was sinking to the bottom of his stomach. Dark shapes blurred past the crew, taking down as many in their way as they could. Silent shadows with foul breath and flaming eyes of crimson coals moved like nightmarish ghosts._

_They were losing._

_The vessel was raucous with ungodly laughter echoing over the screams of victims, mingling with the ominous cracks of thunder. The waves looming as tall as giants were crashing over the ship from all sides. The enemy had found them, it was an ambush and they had come to slaughter them all._

_Louis’ comrade was clinging to his side unable to stand properly, blood pouring from a wound in his throat that looked horribly like fang marks. The man groaned, his eyes rolled back into his head as his knees gave way completely._

_“Zeuxis!”_

_Louis had screamed aloud, shaking him violently, desperate to make his friend stand while resisting the bile rising in his throat as he looked away from his paling companion ever briefly to fixate helplessly upon the last of the Blue Bloods desperately trying to flee for their lives._

_They had come so far only to be trapped, to be picked off one by one, caught with him aboard the stolen boat from the port in Athens. It had been Heraclitus and Cassius’s idea to flee and now it made Louis wonder if he’d known...if Cassius himself was the traitor and had brought them to their doom; for now that they needed him, needed his sword, he was nowhere to be found._

_It was also just so Heraclitus was gone to hold off any of the suspicious elders that they’d suspected were working with the enemy, some left still patrolling the city. He had promised to meet up with Louis in Elis afterwards, and yet...his heart clenched as he thought of his beloved._

_If they’d been double-crossed, oh how he prayed that Cassius was the one who had betrayed them._

_“Anatolius,”_

_His best friend and brother-in-arms heaved through a mouthful of sapphire blood, “I must cease this cycle, I must save myself before my blood becomes Corrupted. This is the only way, please.”_

_Louis shook his head,_

_“no— no! We’ve come too far, please my brother you cannot leave me, I need you! I won’t go on without you, we won’t reach asylum without your aid. Do not leave me alone now, Zeuxis I beseech you.”_

_Louis was being selfish he knew, to even argue with his most trusted friend in this state was risking precious time but he couldn’t just let his heavenly brother leave him this way._

_“Heraclitus promised me no harm would come to you. I will never forgive him for this.”_

_Louis’ lip trembled as he watched his brother strain to hold his gaze, he could barely even lift his own head up to do so. He was undoubtably dying._

_“He did not know this would happen, do not blame him.” Zeuxis spat out another mouthful of blood, “we were betrayed. But please, my brother...” He gestured to his torn throat, “I cannot go on. But you... well... you have to.”_

_His golden eyes rolled back into his head, “you have to save us all.”_

_With those last words, Zeuxis fell limp in his arms as he finally gave in to his wounds, and Louis knew there was no time to waste, he could avenge his brother later, but for now he had to save his blood._

Louis staggered backwards, his food on the floor at his feet, and his chair flipped behind him while he was blinking hard against the sudden tears in his eyes, and wincing against the lump formed in his throat.

That’s when he noticed it had become eerily quiet in _R.A.R.E_.

Niall’s head had lifted from his book to stare oddly at him, while at the other end of the table Zayn’s expression held a suspiciously wet mixture of pained nostalgia and pride.

The other Blue Bloods congregating the space were usually busy in their own little worlds, they ignored him and his company unless it was to say something rude, but today they had frozen in place as they stared in turn at Zayn, then Niall and then focused on Louis, (who’d just realized he was standing at his full height with his wings and horns fully out) in fearful reverence like they were seeing him for the first time.

As he’d fallen out of the flashback, and returned to the centre of his modern day life, as a young man attending a fancy private school in New York, he realized his demeanour had shifted own its own like it had in the classroom that morning, but this time it held on and he was exposed to all. Standing tall and glowing like he had every lifetime before; he was Uriel, the one the Fallen had needed to lead his people from temptation, or bring his Twin of Darkness back into the Light.

“ _nexi infidelis_!”He had roared with the thunderous voice of a God, when he revealed his true self in the stylish restaurant;“ _death to the faithless_!”

His vampire blade was in his hand, his chest was panting with exertion and he knew his skin was radiating the _Lux Aeterna_. He felt a little foolish and on display, wary of how his classmates and other Blue Blood patrons of the establishment were regarding him, horrified at the fact he had exposed his true nature in front of dozens of Red Bloods as well.

“Bravo, Anatolius.”Zayn murmurs it softly, his voice practically a scream in the dead silence of the crowded space surrounding their table, “maybe there’s still some of the real you left in there after all.”

**†**

The Repository doors swung open with a thunderous bang as Louis stormed in, Zayn and Niall hot on his heels.

“Do you really think this is such a good idea?”Niall fretted for the fifth time, “learning about all your past selves at once can do serious damage to your current form especially with the state you’re in. Louis, are you even listening to me? You might go into stasis if you aren’t careful.”

“Its a risk I’m willing to take if it means I can get some answers.”Louis grouses defiantly, “now help me find my files. And don’t let old Langston catch you leaving with them.” 

Percival Langston was a man as wizened and dated as the Repository itself and took his job far too seriously, not a single thing was removed from it’s shelf without his say so, but fortunately he was a Red Blood, and a very old one (for their lifespans) at that, and Louis had no trouble at all zipping from shelf to shelf in the endless halls of the ancient library located miles underneath the academy with no interruption while his two comrades followed after him less enthusiastically and in Niall’s case; with much less speed.

After the embarrassing display at lunch and the fact all the Red Blood patrons in the restaurant had to have their memories wiped because of it, Louis had absolved to get his hands on every piece of history about himself and study it all in length in order to avoid such a debacle again. Due to the fact he had no authority or clearance to actually check out said files, he’d absolved to organize a heist, much to the horror of his Conduit.

He’d waited patiently until the first day of school was over on behest of Niall’s unyielding persistence but once the final bell sounded, he gathered his two friends and rushed them to the secret elevator without so much as a: ‘hello, how was the rest of your day’.

The only mission in his mind was to grab any and every piece of history with Louis’ true name in it they could find.

These flashbacks were becoming too frequent to ignore and they were all centring around one specific word, focusing on very specific memories, like some part of him was trying to call attention to the fact that his different lifetimes all panned out in an identical way, and Louis knew this was the imminent threat to the Committee and Blue Blood’s way of life that Styles and Zayn had been admonishing him for ignoring.Louis was going to have to figure out exactly what the Elders of the Coven were hiding and what the threat was without talking to Styles however; he did have his pride to think about after all. 

Once they’d smuggled their findings into Niall’s town car, hastily sped to Louis’ estate and flew upstairs to the North Wing of the manor, they’d begun unpacking their school bags (and in Louis’ case his usually empty gym bag) full of books and papers pilfered from the Repository in earnest.

“Here,” Zayn unceremoniously dumped old volumes, scrolls, cracked and worn leather-bound folders carrying thick yellowed files, and hundreds of letters on top of Louis’ damask bedspread. 

The trio were tucked away in his large bedroom on the top northeast corner of the sprawling estate, hunched over steaming mugs of coffee, Zayn already pawning off as many of the stolen books as he could onto the other two like he couldn’t bear to hold onto them a second longer.Judging by the look of pain in his eyes as he did so it was clear that the vampire more in control of his memories was reluctant to revisit parts of history he maybe wasn’t happy to remember and couldn’t change and Louis couldn’t help but empathize and let it slide. 

Zayn whirled around the bedroom once he’d lightened his load, eyeing the peeling rope and anchor wallpaper, the smattering of posters, illustrations and flags Louis had hung up overtop of it. His eye caught on a few tattered old postcards that dated as far back as the late 1800’s and pictures by the bedside table but thankfully he didn’t comment on anything, just continued his silent assessment of Louis’ space as he slipped like a shadow down to the other end of the room, eyeing some of the comfier furniture by a small wood stove with a covetous look.

The estate Louis lived in alone (aside for the few serving staff members that he’d grown up with) had been an overwhelming place once his transformation had begun, memories cropping up so often and so violently he felt like he was going insane from the sheer volume of them. The sole reason for his moving to the northern side of the building had entirely to do with the fact the onslaught of unbidden memories and dreams were much quieter here than they were on the south side.

He’d regretfully moved all his belongings into an empty bedroom a third of the size of his much comfier quarters in the south wing, forlorn to be abandoning his favourite space with the most plush and divine king sized bed and en-suite bathroom with an enormous tub built into the floor, but it was necessary.

The once grand homestead he grew up in had been left mostly empty, precious items in storage or auctioned off so that the main half of the north end could be available to be rented out for tours to the public as many of it’s grand halls still carried artworks fit for museums, the home was also something of a landmark itself. The exquisite splendour the Riverside Maison still boasted in her bare bones was a farce however, as Louis watched what fortune his ‘ancestors’ once had dwindle, the serving staff reduced to a third of what it once was as he—the only living heir on a pitiful allowance—, survived off of takeout and cheap beer for sustenance.

Louis thought his alleged grandparents must be rolling in their ‘graves’.

Zayn shrugged out of his battered bomber jacket, looking softly mussed as he sat in the squashiest armchair behind a large black cherrywood desk, his gaze furrowed in concentration while he studied one of the many book of records they’d pilfered from the library an hour previous. His raven hair was rumpled once he’d removed his hat and scarf. The shadow on his jaw and additional bruises underneath his eyes suggested he’d been awake for a long time and it had Louis wondering what it was Zayn had been up to in the few days before term began to look as weary as he did.

Even vampires needed to sleep.

Meanwhile Niall was fidgeting fit to burst at the lawlessness of the two Blue Bloods sitting before him leafing through ancient tomes the Conduit himself had pledged to protect and keep out of the wrong hands, and Louis knew this was killing him. It was a testament to their everlasting friendship that he sat on the floor, and pulled a stack of books towards himself anyways, absently leafing though the first one on the pile.

“I thought the enemies of Blue Bloods stuff was a myth?”Niall mused aloud, flipping though the diary of a Blue Blood Louis had known during the French Revolution, “like campfire stories for young vampires to keep them out of trouble. Are these...these _Croatans_ even real?”

The diary was something Louis acquired after his friend’s unfortunate demise during the Revolution and was the only piece of her that he’d had left. Louis idly wondered if she’d just cycled at the times when he was not in cycle afterwards and that’s why he hadn’t any more recent memories of her. He paused his rummaging through the sheafs of papers littering his bed to rack his feeble memories, fearing the sudden worry that crept into his head when he thought of her, that pesky itch like he knew something wasn’t right.

Fearing these ‘ _Croatans_ ’ that kept popping up in his memories had something to do with why remembering his friend felt so painful, Louis pursed his lips thoughtfully, trying to access whatever he could remember from the last time he ever saw her. He’d known her as Yvette in that cycle, but her true name skirted at the fringes of Louis’ memory, hardly substantial enough to get a grip on, and he blew his bangs out of his eyes in frustration.

He only remembered her kind brown eyes, heart shaped face and that scar that split her right brow in half, a souvenir from the Fall she had carried with her in every cycle she lived.

“That’s what we’re going to find out.”Louis finally answered Niall impatiently, his eyes scouring the documents for a clue, for anything that could jump out at him. Niall flipped another page in Yvette’s diary and Louis closed his eyes in concentration at the flashbacks it wrought, flitting gently against the back of his mind like butterfly wings.

He remembered Yvette leading a battalion against the Sangs D’Argent; how her springy gold hair seemed to fly around her head like a halo as she stood silhouetted by full moonlight...

_A river of blood was running through the streets behind her, she had lead them on a chase through the catacombs as a diversion, a tactic she and Louis had agreed was infallible but they’d popped up into a dead end instead; the glom sucking them through a vortex that had only brought them back to where they started miles away from the tunnels below them, and smack dab in the middle of the enemy lines._

_She was running, leading the chase towards the enemy, boots splashing through puddles, the light rainfall doing very little to clear the streets of countless victim’s life sources, no time to stop and see if there were blood cycles to salvage, if there were lives that could be saved._

_Louis ran alongside her, feeling his bond mate’s hand brush his as he went, they twined fingers and squeezed briefly, before pulling away, running to flank either end of Yvette’s encompassing army._

_“J’taime.” Héraclite sent to him in the glom, the words a velvet caress in Louis’ ear._

_“J’adore.” Louis had returned to his beloved just as gently._

_They felt their wings unfurl as they screeched a call to arms, horns sprouting from their foreheads. Hulking forms tower where humanlike figures once stood. This was a battle they couldn’t afford to lose, and when Louis sees Yvette again, she’s locked in a violent death grip with a worthy opponent, moving so fast it’s impossible to know who has the upper hand._

_Louis couldn’t make out its face but he knew in his gut it was the traitor that had been in their midst._

_He was trying to reach her, fearful he wouldn’t make it in time for they’d been cursed... somehow someone had made using their enhanced abilities nearly impossible for this battle... an old and forbidden magic had been invoked, it wasn’t a spell either of the opposing armies were capable of casting, something was draining both sides of their power._

_The street scene faded out before his eyes to be replaced by a more horrific one; the day breaking to bodies strewn about the streets, motionless and unrecognizable under the gruesome wounds decorating their corpses._

_Louis knelt to the ground, howling in anguish, the fight knocked out of him as Yvette lay in his arms. Her throat was torn apart, and her empty eyes reflected the sunrise, unseeing, lifeless._

_It had been too late to save her blood._

Niall closed the diary and the memories closed with it, Louis blinking against the suddenly bright Edison bulbs in his light sconces on the wall, scrubbing at his prickling eyelids with a hurried fist, his ears ringing.

“What a start to a first day.”Zayn idly comments, unaware of Louis’ internal grief as he casually turns the pages in a tome that looks so old it shouldn’t be handled anymore unless with utmost care and a smart pair of book gloves,

“You skip out after first period, react visibly and loudly to a flashback in public, end up flexing your vampire muscles so well all the Red Bloods in the restaurant needed memory wipes. Then you abscond with half the books in the Repository to uncover a dark forbidden secret the Coven doesn’t want us to know about; thus incriminating yourself, your Conduit, and the Coven’s most undesired all before dinner. If I didn’t know you better than most do Uriel, I’d be surprised.”

He looks immensely proud of Louis and he turns to Niall to wink conspiratorially, but the Conduit doesn’t share his joy. Instead Niall winces and pushes the diary he was holding away from himself looking queasy. “This kind of feels like the we’re doing the exact opposite of what Dean Stoker was encouraging of us this morning.”

Louis waves off Niall’s bellyaching and opens another journal, feeling a rush of exhilaration as old memories spark to life just from the mere brush of his skin against its yellowed pages.“How so? I’m merely taking my Ancient History course very seriously this year, and I can’t see why she’d be upset about that.” 

**†**

Harry had heard it all over school the second he’d glided through the doors the next morning, designer sunglasses perched on a luxuriously styled head of curls, full on the blood of a favourite Familiar and feeling very relaxed after spending the entirety of yesterday at an exorbitantly expensive underground vampires-only spa.

The tension he’d been all too keen to have melt away the prior afternoon was creeping back into his shoulders every time Louis’ name fell from every Blue Blood student’s mouth or popped up in their head before first period. The vampire in question didn't show up until lunchtime however, looking weary and exhausted, blazer rumpled and tie askew.

Harry felt a stab of concern flit through him, wondering if the rumours were true, if he still hadn’t preformed the _Caerimonia Osculor_ , or ‘Sacred Kiss’ as the newbies and fang virgins liked to call it. Harry rolled his eyes and scoffed to himself.

Those rumours however disturbed him gravely, as Louis would be left in a continuously weakened state if he were to refuse his natural instincts any longer. The rumours that he wasn’t taking Familiars, that he’d reacted violently to his memories in public yesterday had Harry spiralling with worry. Louis had always handled his transition with the greatest of ease, he was enviable, perfection personified, and this just wasn’t like him.

“So, I suppose you heard?”

Liam fell into step with Harry as they made their way to the dining hall, everyone opting to eat there whenever it rained, car service was so terrible in this weather it would be faster to walk, but not even the Blue Blood students felt inclined to use the _Velox_ to whisk themselves to an upscale restaurant for lunch at the risk of ruining a dry clean only garment in particularly nasty downpours.

“Heard what exactly? Need I remind you this school is a rumour mill?”Harry snatched his best friend’s arm and pulled him closer, obviously not interested in having anyone eavesdropping on them as they spoke aloud.

Admittedly it was Harry who had seen to the fact the school was always buzzing with gossip in any case and he knew it, but that wasn’t important at the moment, he wanted to know what Liam might have heard about Louis.He lifted his head haughtily as he passed his reluctant other half at a corner table with that unbearable Conduit of his, and the Committee’s token red letter sitting in a huddle together speaking in low tones. The outcast’s hand was resting on Louis’ own in a way that was meant to be comforting and Harry saw red. He was overcome with a furious desire to fly over and rip Zayn’s treacherous arm right out of its socket. 

_That would show him what happens when you touch what isn’t yours._ A dark voice hissed in the back of his head, sounding all the world like his own true self’s timbre. Harry exhaled noisily through his nose, his left eye twitched as he fought the tide of possessiveness he had no business feeling, since Louis wasn’t his in this life cycle either. Not yet anyways.

“The Repository was ransacked last night. Hundreds of documents are missing.”Liam informed him of this as they slid into cozy armchairs with banquette tables built into the walls beside them.

The statuesque young man picked at the rare cheeseburger he had chosen for his lunch while Harry preferred a bowl of ceviche to tide him over before his Pilates class that afternoon. (The class was an excellent way to tone his vampiric muscles, the instructor was for dessert.)

“There wasn’t any indication of a forced entry so all the Conduits registered with the newest crop of Blue Bloods are going to be brought in by the Committee for questioning.” As Liam continues filling Harry in, Louis sits up straighter, having been seated only a table away from them. His eyes are sparkling with concern and flicking anxiously to Niall; his beloved Red Blood, his Conduit, with direct access to the Repository.

Harry could only imagine what files in question had disappeared, and he glanced around at his estranged bond mate with a wry grin.

 _Ah._ Harry thought wickedly, _so someone is embracing their destiny. I’m a little disappointed in you darling, you know you could’ve come to me if you had any questions. I’m incredibly well versed in your history being it’s so intertwined with my own after all._

Louis snorted but didn’t turn around to look at Harry, his sudden sound of annoyance causing his company to turn and stare curiously over at Harry instead, knowing full well he was the source of the intrusion to Louis’ train of thought and the cause of what Harry could only assume was sudden displeasure on his face.

 _I’d rather die than ask you for your help_ Louis sent back to him a touch nastily.

 _I’m very afraid you might die a horrible death at the rate your transition has been going._ Harry switches from sarcastic to pleading, pride be damned.

He’d swallowed it all the second he realized Louis was going to fight him every step of the way in this cycle regardless, he wasn’t above anything when it came to protecting his beloved. _Let me help you Uriel, you know you can’t do this without me._

Instead of answering Harry, Louis stands and gathers his things, stalks out of the dining hall with his lackeys making to follow until a sudden, unexpectedly strong compulsion from Harry sends them crashing back into their seats with a huff of surprise. They’re left to watch on warily as Harry rises and follows Louis instead.

“Your funeral.” Horan sighs at him under his breath, and Harry ignores that.

He also ignores how Zayn probes Liam into easy conversation the second Harry makes to leave, and ignores the whispers and jeers of his fellow Blue and Red Blood students watching yet another fruitless attempt of Harry’s to get Louis to talk to him.

“Here we go again.”Carolina Kensington, It girl, Blue Blood, and future Yale legacy sighed dramatically to the group of girls clustered around her table fawning over her, “kinda hoped for his sake he’d let it go after what happened last year.”

“Don’t even know why he bothers.”A Red Blood minion of hers agrees loudly, too eager for her idol’s approval, “like honey take a hint; he’s just not that into you.” 

The other girls titter in amusement while Carolina and the other two Blue Blood girls beside her shoot Harry a look of insulting pity. Harry keeps his head held high and gives the human girl the suggestion to dump her pressed juice into her lap, covering her dry clean only Prada skirt with a permanent Swiss chard stain.

 _Harry you bitch, I wanted to borrow that!_ Carolina sends to him in complaint.He chuckles to himself at the sound of her posse’s cries of horror regarding the state of the Red Blood’s skirt, and slips away through the doors in pursuit of his estranged lover.

Louis the sneaky bastard, was using the _Velox_ to take off into the rainy streets and with a long sigh of resignation, Harry gave chase. Weaving through taxicabs that never saw him, the vampire admired the lights reflected in the downpour, beads of rain by the thousands seemed to hang suspended in midair as he ran faster than they could fall.

  
The crystal like droplets scattering the city around him left a pretty backdrop sure enough; but compared to the subtle strength underlying the curve of Louis’ body twisting down streets, up alleyways, and eventually silhouetted along the rooftops? Compared to the agility of his beloved’s muscles flexing underneath buttery tanned skin, the poetic movement in the feline grace of his leaps? 

Harry knew what was a far prettier sight to behold.

It reminded him of the nights spent lifetimes ago in Ancient Greece, when he’d chase Louis along the cliffs by the sea, bits of laurel and anemone flowers falling away from the crowns woven in their hair, their feet bare and dirty and their laughter echoing along the coast. Louis had always remained two steps ahead of him then too; smaller and lighter on his feet than Harry could hope to be and always just a little bit out of his reach.

_Stop sending me those memories. That isn’t me._

Louis leapt the thirty foot gap from one rooftop to another without so much as a hesitation, his feet carrying him faster and further away from Harry once they’d found purchase.

_They’re as much your memories as they are mine, Uriel. I’m not showing you anything you haven’t already seen. Or lived._

Harry pushes himself to go faster, his lungs feeling fit to burst, sore and aching in a way that is nearly human but he manages to keep a steady pace. He leaps higher when he approaches the gap and nearly lands on the second vampire, but Louis is quicker, pushing off on the balls of his feet, and Harry feels a wall of exhaustion hitting him he all but struggles through knowing if he’s getting tired, Louis can’t be far behind.

Sure enough he catches up to his quarry twenty minutes later, sitting on the edge of a billboard over the expressway.

Louis’ legs dangle over the edge and he fidgets, staring listlessly down at the fast paced traffic below. He makes no move to run again when the other vampire approaches, does nothing more than make an irritated face when Harry sits down beside him. Not daring to shatter any illusion of an uneasy alliance while they try to catch their breath, the two ancient souls wearing youthful shells sit in a long silence so uninterrupted they’re even non-communicative in the glom.

Hours pass them by, Harry watches the sky turn several colours before blackness pulls its way across a smoggy, light polluted canvas. He watches the soft velvet of the night settle over them, broken up by the billboard’s backlight and the overall illumination of the traffic and sleepless city below. He waits until he swears he can quite literally hear fucking crickets chirping somewhere far below them before he breaks the quiet.

“Why are you doing this to us?”He asks Louis in a forcibly calm tone, afraid to be too loud and upset him all over again, “why are you turning your back on me and on everything you know?” 

He watches as Louis seems to fight with something internally, his gaze almost regretful when it falls onto Harry, before he finally speaks openly with him for what feels like the first time.

“Because I don’t know this life!” Louis explodes eventually, arms gesticulating wildly above his head in exasperation.

“These memories don’t feel like mine, this cycle doesn’t even feel like it fits me right, and I barely have a handle on things as it is, then there’s you. Biding your time, expecting so much from me, taking for granted things you think I should give to you, things I don’t ever remember giving to you in the first place.”

His beautiful eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.“It’s like I just woke up one morning and was told I wasn’t Louis Tomlinson anymore.”

Harry makes to argue with him but stops when Louis holds up a hand, the motion as familiar and commanding as it’d been in other lifetimes. Harry feels his mouth snap shut as he stares at Louis in a meek sort of silence, nodding feebly at the incensed lad to continue.

“Instead of being a regular teenager, I was this ancient...thing. With too many stories and names and past lives inside my head, and this weight of the world I never asked for strapped to my shoulders,” he lets out a sob, “and now I just feel like a crazy person.”

Louis buries his head in his arms, only lifting it just so his eyes peer out overtop of them glassily, his words muffled by his forearms, “each cycle I’ve remembered, I’ve lost or nearly lost someone dear. Whatever battle it is we’re fighting, whatever allies we have by our side, we lose them in some violent horrible way. We lose everything. So pardon me if these strolls through memory lane you’re so keen on reliving aren’t exactly doing it for me Styles. Sorry I don’t feel as compelled as you do to relive an extensive timeline of biblical loss.” 

“We don’t lose everything.”Harry insists, “no matter the cycle we’re in, you still have me, you will always have me. Plus we have our bond and that makes us stronger, and when we bond this time around it will help you make sense of your blood memories, but you have to trust me, U— Louis. Please, just trust me.”

Louis shakes his head.“I am sorry to be causing you so much pain you know, but I meant it when I told you last year that I will never recognize our bond again. I don’t trust you and I don’t want this life.” He stands and dusts off his jeans, “I’m leaving now, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t follow me this time.”

He says it all quietly, calmly, like he didn’t just split Harry’s heart wide open. Like he didn’t just crush the boy beside him as easily into the dirt as he had with their countless foes in their many lifetimes spent side by side, spent as the opposite of whatever the hell Louis was choosing for them now.

They were far from perfect, but they made their way from the Fall as one, picked themselves up and started over.

Louis had been a fearsome warrior, he had been as ruthless as he’d been merciful, and had been their leader and salvation for so long it doesn’t make sense for anyone else to fill his shoes. Sure, he’s been cold in the past and he’s hurt Harry before but not without reason, (Harry was not so innocent himself he knew) but neither of them had ever been this cruel to one another, Louis had never done something so callous as to deny their bond. It was unfathomable. 

Still Harry wants to protect him, he’s driven by a devotion to his beloved that is almost crippling; so deeply embedded into his nature, into his very soul that sometimes he feels like he could bleed from the agony it’s wrought.

“The Coven Elders will condemn you to the Black Fire for this.”Harry warns with a mouth dry and sour, desperate for Louis to know the truth, to know what he’s getting himself into, “if you don’t uphold the laws you once yourself laid out for our kind, the laws you wrote in your own blood after the Fall, they are going to kill you, and I won’t be able to stop them.” 

Louis locks an even gaze onto Harry’s and he wilts under how indifferently the other half of his soul regards him, how he looks down at him like he doesn’t even recognize him. It stings in ways Harry didn't know were conceivable.

“Then that is my fate.” the fallen angel shrugs indifferently, “at least this way the choice will be mine and mine alone.”

When Uriel leaves, his twin soul respects his wishes and doesn’t pursue him this time. He just sits above the stretch of highway he once remembered as a road or more accurately; an old foot path lined with a thicket of forest on either side. He remembers how it looked when he wandered it searching for refuge, for Louis, after they’d been separated during the flight from the enemy in Plymouth. The view from his perch doesn’t quite do it justice, so Harry uses the glom to revert the highway into the darkened woods he once knew.

Much better.

The treetops look so small from this height but he remembered them to be quite tall from his vantage point on the ground walking the thin dirt footpath in worn out boots, hugging his arms around himself, fearing in his heart what he was going to find at the end of it. That same cold feeling was gripping his chest now, so Harry hugged his arms around himself like he had then, a small wet laugh at the familiarity tearing itself from his throat.

He lifted his chin proudly, fighting tears he refused to shed for anyone. Not for the Coven, not for himself, not even for Uriel and his damnable eyes; bluer than the most beautiful of oceans, but harsher than the most turbulent of seas.

A fall from the billboard itself seems quite perilous and any lesser man wouldn’t survive it, but Harry is no man. He closes his eyes and a small smirk parts his lips as he drops off the side, his vision shifts from a old forgotten road, back into the oncoming traffic below and he knows by the time he’s stopped flipping over, that his body has made its final purchase with the ground.

He opens his eyes groggily, lying underneath an overpass along the highway far below the billboard he’d been on, his limbs bent and broken at unnatural angles and his head twisted around to look behind himself. Lying there in broken pieces, chuckling humourlessly as his body immediately begins to heal, he absolves to hit up the first place he can find that has decent cocktails and a strict don’t ask don’t tell policy on guests; knowing it will only take an evening off with a Familiar or two to fix his body up like new.

But his heart?

At this point Abbadon is astounded to discover he somehow still has one.

  
**†**

“Like I told you, you should’ve just written him a letter.”

Liam is straightforward, firm but not unsympathetic as he takes a seat beside a desolate Harry nursing a dirty martini at the St Regis hotel bar.

Harry’s ‘date’ —his third one in the last hour— is slumped into her glass of Chardonnay and Liam regards her curiously. Harry’s usually more discrete than he’s tending to be this evening, a stickler for the Committee rules about the treatment of Familiars, and careful not to risk exposure.

“Long night,”Harry rasps by way of explaining his out of character behaviour, his jaw still clicking from where it had healed wrong. He knew he’d have to break it again later. It was something he was not looking forward to, but at the present moment he wasn’t bothered by it in the slightest.

“You know the Elders won’t blame you for this... unfortunate situation. They aren’t going to burn your blood too.” Liam tells him as if that’s meant to be reassuring.

“Oh for fucking— Liam, you think I care about _that_?”

Harry rubs his hands over his face in exasperation, Liam’s eyes filling with concern as he looks on at his disheveled friend, “I’m scared out of my mind for Louis. He’s going to end up suffering horribly at the hands of the Coven or by his own stubborn refusal to take a Familiar. With this whole decision to deny the vampire needs in him, he’ll wind up dead before I can get through to him and that petrifies me.”

“I think I can help with that,” Liam offers after a pause, sounding a touch reluctant. “But you’re going to have to trust me.”

Harry narrows his eyes, immediately suspicious, “why? What exactly did you have in mind?”

“It’s more of a ‘who’ than a ‘what’, if you will.”Liam glances over his shoulder to his left, watching Zayn sidle into the bar and casually stroll up to the both of them in answer, a sheepish look on Liam’s face and as usual (or at least just when he was around Harry) a rather blasé one on Zayn’s.

Harry is aghast.“Absolutely not.”

Zayn sneers at this, clearly unsurprised by Harry’s response.

“Told you.” He teases Liam before looking back at Harry, leaning into a stool and rapping his knuckles on the surface of the bar to grab the attention of the bartender hovering by the other end, “but since you did pick my favourite hotel bar in this part of town, it would be rude not to join me for a drink. And you’re still all about decorum are you not, _Abbadon_?” 

His tone is laden with scorn and Harry wants to slam his now empty glass in through the smug face of his former brother-in-arms and out the back of his head, but instead he closes his eyes, exhales noisily through his nose while pinching the bridge of it. This had been a very testing week for him, and it was only Tuesday. Liam was looking at Harry so pleadingly, he felt the pressure to cede overwhelming him. He also thought of his concern for Louis and sighed in furious defeat, shooting a murderous snarl at Zayn.

“One drink,” Harry says coolly signalling for another martini, “I’ll hear whatever you have to say in the time it takes to finish it and then I’m leaving.”

Zayn places a hand over his heart and stares back at Harry, cold contempt glittering in his eyes. “I’m wounded.” The annoyingly handsome vampire mocks back sarcastically, “but whatever, as you wish.”

A barkeep sets a tumblr of scotch in front of Zayn and one in front of Liam on gold cocktail napkins and walks away wordlessly to mix Harry another drink. Zayn leans forward to nab one of Harry’s rare filet mignon sliders without asking.

Harry massages his temples and turns to the so-called friend on his left, “so, Liam tell me. What exactly does this plan entail besides betrayal, theft of my food, and the ultimate destruction of my sanity?” He whines, irrationally petulant.

“I thought the destruction of your sanity happened in St Petersburg when Uriel almost bonded with Michael instead of you.” Zayn said with his mouth full, chasing the slider with a sip of his scotch.

Harry picked up another bloody minute sized burger and throws it at his former ally, turning away instead of watching him easily catch and eat that one as well.

“The plan involves Zayn because he says he has a good theory about what’s happening to Uriel’s memories, and why it’s causing problems for the two of you.”Liam explains patiently, “I’m not betraying you by asking him for his help, okay? He cares about your bond mate too, you know.” 

He can tell by Liam’s tone and earnest eyes he’s truthfully trying to help him, he remembers how Liam has been right there by his side in each life time as a loyal brother and trusted best friend, and Harry loves him for it, honestly. That being said, to go behind his back and recruit Zayn, when it was no secret that he and the belligerent vampire now loathed each other...he had to have a good reason to do that, and Liam wouldn’t lie. However Harry hadn’t talked to Zayn in a very long time for good reason, and if memory served him correctly; the deceptively doe-eyed Blue Blood wanted nothing more to do with him either. 

Harry cracks a weak smile at Liam, but its real and he’s trying to show he’s willing to be trusting and cooperative because he knows Zayn and Liam are worried about Louis too and that’s what it really boils down to; personal issues have no place, take no precedence considering what’s at stake. They can work together to try and help his beloved and then Harry and Zayn can go back to hating each other in peace.

The open sincerity on his face is something he can never fake with his friend, which is why Liam smiles back encouragingly at him and at Zayn in turn when Harry cedes.

“Okay, I’ll hear you both out.” Harry sighs and props his chin up in his free hand, sipping his freshly mixed drink.

“Besides, in regards to the destruction of your sanity I’m kind of in agreement with Zayn as to where and when that happened.” Liam adds quite unnecessarily.

Harry throws the last slider at his friend in response.

  
**†**

After making digital copies of every last document he’d pilfered, Louis regretfully agreed to give Niall everything he stole from the Repository back before they hauled the poor Conduit in for questioning and got the pair of them plus Zayn in a world of trouble.Zayn was already on thin ice with the Committee as is, and Louis knew they weren’t the biggest fans of him at the present either and it wasn’t worth the risk to be caught but he returned the documents with more than a touch of bitter resentment. 

They technically were his belongings after all, even if they weren’t from this lifetime, he wrote them, sent them and read them. He held them in his hands over the course of so many lifetimes, and he felt as such; they should stay with him.

  
The buzz of refreshing his memories with actual physical contact through documents he’d written and the letters he’d sent in his many lifetimes wasn’t there when he held photocopied versions, or scanned through documents he had saved as .png files, but they would have to do for now. (Louis had turned red, then slightly green at the amount of love letters to and from Harry he’d amassed over the centuries.)

The only thing he kept without Niall’s knowledge was Yvette’s diary. He knew it was wrong, but there was something telling him that parting with it now would be a bad decision, so without thinking twice he slipped it under his mattress before Niall came over early that morning for everything.

He was skipping Gym during second period that morning as usual, sitting outside on the bleachers in the currently empty lacrosse field, a thermos of hot cider keeping him warm as he read through the weathered pages, wishing he’d thought to bring gloves as his fingertips were slightly numb from turning pages for the last forty minutes. Yvette had been convinced for months that someone in their closest ranks was a spy, her entries becoming more condensed and increasingly frantic as he progressed to the end of the frayed little book.

_Nous avons été trahis..._

_(We have been betrayed)_

Louis ran his fingers down over the indents in the page, where Yvette had pressed her pen down so sharply she’d cut through the paper itself on the last word:

_Croatan_

She had been so sure...who else knew what she discovered? Who was the traitor in their midst? Had they been the one to end her life in the middle of the Revolution like Louis suspected? Louis closed his eyes, preparing to jump into the glom with the diary in hand—

“—Louis!”

Louis snapped his eyes open to see Niall wandering up the hill, looking deeply concerned, and he hastily stowed the little diary away in an inside pocket of his coat at Velox speed before standing and calmly making his way down to meet Niall halfway.

“Hey Ni, what’s up?” He asked, overtly casual in case Niall’s obvious concern had to do with a certain missing diary Louis would absolutely pretend to know nothing about.

“Louis you gotta get home right now, I just got a call from your housekeeper that Harry is there. Apparently he’s got some other people with him who seem to be taking inventory of your things, they’re walking around with clipboards and tablets, and she said she saw moving trucks pulling up at the front gate.”Niall looks deeply uncomfortable to be sharing such dizzying news to his friend. 

He had no time to even ask his Conduit what on earth that cretin was doing in Louis’ estate on Riverside or how the bastard got into his home in the first place, Louis just took off; chest stinging as he’d never run home so fast in his life, leaving his floundering friend in the dust behind him.

By the time he’d skidded to a hard stop on the sidewalk across from the front of the gates of his home located nearly on the other side of the city, he was almost ready to collapse.He gritted his teeth and straightened up, storming across the street, scowling at the sight of a few u-hauls parked beside the building, aiming a half-assed kick at one that immediately caved in the front bumper. 

He sprints away from the incriminating evidence, hurrying inside the main entrance doors that have been flung open to let in the last bit of warm sunshine and fresh fall air (and let out all of Louis’ belongings probably). He’s got his hands balled up in fists, each step forward purposeful and poised, his entire being aching between the feeling of exertion from running home at full blown Velox speed the whole way, and still fighting with the fiery urge to tear Harry Styles’ head right off his body.

Instead of doing so the minute he enters, he halts in shock instead at the sight of the public wing unrecognizable yet so painfully familiar as chaise lounges, armchairs and armoires, old paintings and sculptures have been returned to their exact locations.

Lovingly hand chosen collected antique pieces and one of a kind heirlooms are all back where they used to be, Louis notices with a pang of wistfulness as he flies over every inch of the once so informal wing of his grand home, noticing nearly immediately that there was no one toting a clipboard in sight.

A masterful dining table and chairs that easily sat sixty was once again gleaming underneath the dozen chandeliers that had specifically been installed for it in the formal dining room. The elegant light fixtures detailed right down to their polished gold arms hung with an even five foot space between each of the chandeliers ran the length of the table; their crystals cut at a certain way to cast more light across it’s burnished mahogany surface, making the room glow like it was lit by sunlight despite the fact there wasn’t a window to be had in that room.

He stumbled out of the dining hall, hearing ghosts of parties he’d hosted over the centuries echoing in his head, feet carrying him towards his once favourite wing knowing the way instinctively, hope in his heart for the return of what had been in the drawing room in another lifetime if past memories served him correctly.

He stopped in a stumble in front of a familiar set of beautiful French folding doors painted in the palest blue and detailed with the print of a hundred golden bees. Hands trembling as he reaches towards the ornate knobs, he grasped them and pulled the doors at a human pace. When he finally flung them open, he gasped aloud in disbelief and delight at what was sitting in wait for him as if it had never left the room over a century ago. The late morning sunbeams cast its rays on a recently polished surface of the soft white Pleyel that Louis used to spend hours alone composing on in this very drawing room in 1912. A lump in his throat caused Louis’ eyes to sting as he wandered up to the piano, stroking the lid latched shut over the keys lovingly.

“How?” He wondered aloud.

“Well it wasn’t easy, but when has anything regarding you ever been?”

An ubiquitous voice sounded from behind Louis, and one glance up at the reflection in the window by the piano told him Styles was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable.The petite but ferocious Blue Blood spins around and advances furiously at him.

“ _You_!” Louis growls. “How and why did you break into my house?”

Styles laughs at him but doesn’t relax his stance,“first of all I didn’t break in, I have a key. Secondly, we built this place together, and finished it in the spring of 1832 or rather; I built it per your instruction as a gift to you. I can show you the deed, I did bring it as I assumed you’d demand to see it, but you may be less than thrilled to notice it’s in my name. So sweetheart, technically, it’s _my_ house.”

Louis pales at this and Styles’ smug amusement immediately turns contrite.“Louis,” he sighs. “I wish—”

Closing his eyes briefly, Styles stops himself from whatever he was about to say, only opening them again to stare his former bond mate down in determination. 

“I’m not going to kick you out of a home we built together. I just wanted to put everything we had back in it and fix it up to it’s former glory because it was once so magnificent and we poured so much love and work into this place. I was only selfishly motivated because once I saw the state it was in, and I heard that all our art and decor we’d collected and brought back with us from several different lifetimes had been auctioned off; it broke my heart. Look, I don’t want this year to be difficult for either one of us, and I’m sorry about how I’ve been acting. Forgive me for my concern regarding what’s at stake, I’ve only wanted what’s best for for us, for you.”

He rubs at the back of his neck and frowns thoughtfully. “If I could make a small request? No more opening the house to the public anymore though, yeah? Feels weird knowing other people have been wandering around these halls who had no business being in here, plus some of the artworks in the main halls have technically been missing from Red Blood society for a considerable amount of time and I don’t think we can easily explain away how we came into possession of them in this century.” 

There’s a pained look in the young man’s eyes that keeps Louis from arguing. He can’t help but privately feel like he agrees anyways and he nods silently, annoyed at how relieved he is by the grateful look Styles gives him.

“Also you still have access to all our Swiss accounts love. So you don’t have to be so frugal just because you’re trying to live independently, which isn’t the Blue Blood way. Besides, that money is rightfully yours after all.”

  
Styles makes to leave, glances back and winks cheekily at Louis with a vexingly beautiful smile on his lips, “buy yourself something pretty, or I don’t know, maybe turn the heat on? Anyways I’m heading back to school, but I’ll be seeing you later.” 

He chuckles and disappears before Louis can even shoot back a retort. Before he can even say thank you.

Head still reeling, Louis leaves the drawing room slowly, intent on returning to school before he’s yelled at for being late to another class, yet again.What Styles did was strange, but kind and somehow did not seem suspicious in the slightest which made it all the more suspicious, like some other force was at work. And what had he meant by the fact he’d be seeing Louis later? He’d have to unpack that some other time. Right now he just had to hope he had enough energy left to run himself back to Duchesne in time for AP Calculus.

(He didn’t.)

Louis tiptoed into his classroom fifteen minutes after the final bell, trying to slide in beside Niall unnoticed.

He unpacked his bag quickly, wincing at the withering glare from his Professor as he silently opened his notebooks and began to copy the theory off the board. Niall slid over the first two pages Louis had already missed, clearly having copied extras once he got to class and had not seen the Blue Blood in his usual seat.

“You’re the best Ni.” He whispered gratefully, “I owe you.”

Niall brushed him off and continued taking notes, but he bumped Louis’ knee with his own under the desk and shot him a sly grin from the corner of his mouth. Styles coughed from two rows behind them, and Louis internally rolled his eyes.

_Thank you, by the way._

He sighs and fiddles with his pencil, his eyes have been heavy since he got to class and the numbers on the board appear to be wiggling like worms before his exhausted gaze. He props his chin in his hand and lets his vampiric vision go unfocused.

_For what, exactly?_

Styles is leaning back in his seat clearly having copied the formula theories and solved whatever equations Louis had missed already, and was now taking to boring his gaze in the back of Louis’ head as usual.

 _For what you did today. To do that and not have an ulterior motive is so very unlike you._ Louis smirks. _So thanks._

_Now, hang on. Who said I didn’t have an ulterior motive?_

Styles sounds amused.

_I’m moving back our possessions and myself into my quarters in the south wing today. Well ‘our’ quarters technically speaking; but as you seem to prefer the guest quarters on the north side, I’m taking our bedroom back for myself. As you recall Uriel, it is as much my home as it is yours. Plus, you’ve no idea how much I’ve been missing the comforts of our old bed._

Even in the glom that last part sounds pretty dirty and Louis has no interest in knowing what it is about the bed he used to sleep on in the master bedroom that Styles misses exactly.

“Oh, you have got to be _fucking_ kidding me right now.”

It’s when his classmates and Professor gasp in shock that Louis realizes he spoke aloud to his former bond mate instead of in his head, and can hear Styles laughing into his fist behind him.

“I apologize.” Louis says to the room at large in deep shame, “that was meant to be internal.”

He adds his last comment pointedly, viciously furious when Styles’ laughter only increases in volume as a result. What an ass.

 _You know, I hate you so much._

Louis seethes as he resumes copying from the board, aware of the dirty looks his classmates are throwing him now and will presumably continue to do so for the rest of the period.

_You’re so warm and inviting, I just can’t wait to move back in with you._

Styles sighs in almost disappointment, sending Louis’ hackles rising in ire at the audacity of the arrogant bastard to be so visibly upset with him. If anyone had the right to be disappointed it was Louis, because apparently Styles wasn’t ever capable of being honest or doing something nice for somebody without wanting something out of it in return.

_At least I know what I’m dealing with now._

Louis thought to himself aggressively, ignoring the second sigh that slipped from the lips of the Blue Blood in question, this one sounding almost sad or remorseful.

As if.

**†**

“Remember how I said to reinsert yourself into Louis’ life gradually to give him time to adjust or it would be for nothing?”

Zayn was livid, practically vibrating with frustration as he sat at his kitchen table, hanging his head in his hands. He was acting as though he actually couldn’t physically comprehend Harry’s stupidity, while the other vampire paced the open concept kitchenette. His laps circling the marble island in laps faster than the human eye could track; stubborn and embittered as he usually was.

“You don’t know what it was like for me. I took one step into that house and became overwhelmed with an influx of memories. I felt back at home. Everything I need for my future to make me a better Regis this time around is in my past, in my old home. I can feel it. It was like this invisible hand pushing me through the threshold urging me on. A past cycle practically forced me to pay attention to the feeling, and I can’t ignore it even if I wanted to, I’m finally getting back on track with my plan, with my life.”

Harry shakes his head, frustrated, “you wouldn’t understand why it’s so important for me to get this cycle right this time.”

It’s quiet in an unpleasant sort of way after Harry’s outburst.

Zayn levels him with a glower of severity so piercing Harry has to look away because it’s turning his stomach over with guilt and shame.

“That’s where you’re wrong.”Zayn finally cuts in so quietly it’s more to himself than to Harry, before setting off in his tirade he’d been lamenting in since the moment Harry told him what he’d done, “Not that it matters, clearly nothing matters in the world outside of your precious selfish bubble. Louis practically said to your face he doesn’t want you living with him, and you still moved in!”

“We’re on opposite wings!”Harry shoots back voice rising, “I could install a wall between us if it’d make him feel better, and considering he already bricked up the emotional one, I’m sure he’d be fine with a little renovation. I know I’ve made things worse for now but I also know I can’t leave, it’s my home too and I miss h—. I miss it.”

He knows he sounds pitiful, knows he almost slipped up, that it’s obvious his composure is cracking, it’s what the fear of losing Louis for good does to him.He’s getting hysterical again but he hardly cares, and maybe it shows because Zayn sighs in defeat, dropping his hands from his face to look at Harry in clear frustration and unease.

He looks like he’s choosing his words carefully before he speaks to Harry again, his shields up against the glom in full force so Harry cannot peer into his mind. 

“Then tell him that, really explain the situation to him this time. Don’t expect him to get it right away but if he does, great! And if not...give him some time, he’s not as unreasonable as he pretends to be in this cycle. How did Claudine and Sébastien take the news you were moving out?”

Ah yes, Harry’s flighty cycle parents. The utter morons.

“I haven’t really told them yet. Besides they aren’t even in the country right now.” He shrugs in what he hopes is a passing nonchalance, “so I rather doubt they’ll notice.”

“Harry.” Zayn glares at him, further exasperated, “they’re definitely going to notice.”

Harry cocks a brow and crosses his arms, almost laughing aloud at how dense Zayn could be about parental affection and diligence (two things Harry’s cycle parents lacked the capacity for), “want to bet?”

Zayn leans back in his chair and raises a brow of his own back, “sure. And if I’m right you’ll get me back on the Committee to boot.”He smiles sadly like he already knows it can’t be done and Harry ignores the tiny pang of sympathy that comes with the acknowledgement.

He shakes his head wordlessly, and Zayn’s expression flattens into one of sour defeat.

“At least tell me what’s been going on with the new crop,” he complains slumping to the side on the surface of his marble-top table, “Louis doesn’t pay any attention in the meetings, and Niall may want to help, but to the Elders on Council that hardly matters ever since having a Conduit fell out of vogue decades ago. The Committee is no place for a Red Blood, he’s about as welcome as I am.”

“That’s an alternative I can work with.” Harry cedes,“I’m on the board now in my father’s place while he and Claudine are in Spain for fall right through to the winter, so I hold quite a few of the meetings myself, I can bring my keynotes when I stop by afterwards.”

“Christ Harry, stop bragging.” Zayn rolls his eyes.

“I’m not!” He was, just a little.

Zayn shrugs, “as long as I know what the hell is going on that’s all I’m really asking for, because something feels off. Louis obviously is concerning all of us, but there’s something else that I can’t put my finger on, and it’s driving me crazy.”

He drums his fingers on the marble-top in an agitated way.

Harry nods, “as much as I hate to admit it, the Elders are a bunch of doddering fools and we could use all the help we can get.”

Zayn looks smug, but doesn’t press Harry to say anything more on the subject of how badly the Coven is doing this time around and for that Harry is genuinely grateful.

“You know, this may seem more like spying than anything else to a lot of the other members, especially to the Elders now that you’re no longer a part of the Committee so I expect you’ll understand that outside of this infernal new age loft you’re insisting on living in we aren’t on speaking terms.”Harry props himself against the sterile white countertop, finally ceasing his incensed pacing to look Zayn dead in the eye, “got it?”

Zayn leans back in his seat, pausing like he was listening for something before sitting up and straightening out his legs with a huff, letting his clunky boots dangle on the ends of his feet. The laces hung down messily on either side trailing to the floor, and he studies them while his jaw twitches and his brow furrows. For a long moment Harry thinks Zayn’s going to say something sharp-tongued and angry like he used to when he’d obviously had more than enough of Harry trying to give him orders. The infuriating vampire he’d known since the Beginning had often rebelled against his endeavours to lead their kind not trusting him half as much as he trusted Uriel. (Once even going as far as to refer to Harry’s leadership skills as an _ill-disguised attempt at obstinate dictatorship_ ) but what the hell did Azrael know about leading a Coven? 

While that particular heavenly duty had never rested on the shoulders of the broody vampire slouched in the clear plastic chair across from Harry, it was never held against him. Even before whatever incident befell the duo that had put a far bigger divide between them that Harry had to privately admit he couldn’t even remember now, a part of him knew better than to dwell on it.

Harry had come to relish and secretly appreciate the harsh honesty Zayn usually dressed him down with, as it was the only thing that still came naturally between the two anymore.

But instead of giving him the grounding slap in the face he usually would deserve and had come to expect; Harry’s former comrade and heavenly brother just frowns at Harry, looking almost bored with him again.

“Works for me.”He sighs finally, tawny gaze unreadable as it snaps back to his shoes and his mind is a consistent hum of background noise in the glom, obviously resisting lowering the veil on his thoughts, resolutely keeping Harry at bay in the same infuriating way that Louis did sometimes.

“You can let yourself out now.” The sullen faced vampire adds flatly when the silence stretches beyond the point of uncomfortable. 

Harry doesn’t ask what he did to warrant such a quick dismissal because he has a feeling it hasn’t entirely got to do with him. Striding to collect his jacket and gloves from the foyer of the architectural glass apartment building Zayn lived in, he chanced a glance into the street, his sharp eyes focusing on an attractive young woman with dark hair that had just let herself into the building on the ground floor below.

“If you had a Familiar coming for a house call you could’ve just said so.”Harry tried to joke with him easily, wondering why that only caused Zayn to glower at him further before taking him by the arm and insistently tugging him into the kitchen again.

“Would you mind leaving from the window?” Zayn asks gesturing to an open one above the sink, “I’d very much prefer it if the two of you didn't meet.”

His handsome face is lined with worry, golden eyes flashing in a desperate plea, one that clearly states despite their patchy history and lack of camaraderie in this life cycle, he was still trusting and relying on Harry to respect his wishes. Something akin to nostalgia stirred in Harry’s chest at the sight, a kaleidoscope of memories of their brotherhood blinking in the eyes staring back at him. He felt suspiciously about the situation overall, but ceded and slipped wordlessly to the window, transforming into a harmless mist that drifted with the wind out the open frame.

Zayn slammed the window shut behind Harry and hurried away to greet the woman at the door, helping her out of her coat. She kissed his cheek before unwinding her scarf and stepping out of boots as worn in as his own.

Harry watched from the branch of a tree he was now perched on in the form of a crow, inconspicuously grooming his feathers and listening in on the conversation unfolding in the space as the couple made their way to the living room, settling on a love seat by a window adjacent to Harry’s newfound perch outside.

“I spoke to my contact in Rome, and it doesn’t look good. I think I’m going to have to check in with some of the others hiding out across the city. A lot of old allies that way have been keeping their ears to the ground out of habit, and we’re very lucky they have.”

Zayn’s companion accepted the full wineglass he handed her and traced her finger around the rim, her voice full of concern as she spoke. She was a pretty human with smoky hazel eyes, caramel skin, midnight hair and lips as pouty as her vampire’s, but her face was creased with worry and her gaze held a weight of the world in a way he’d never seen in the eyes of a Red Blood before.

“So they’re making their move.” Zayn shrugs, “we’ll figure something out. We always do.”

His Familiar looks impatient.

“Darling,” she sighed and rubbed her face tiredly,“this isn’t like before, and you had every right to be as worried about Uriel as you are. Something isn’t making sense in regard to his blood memories. We need to speak to Abbadon as soon as possible, and I don’t want to hear another argument from you about putting this meeting off anymore.”

Harry bristled. So this was what Zayn was being so furtive about.

This little Familiar of his knew a lot more about his kind than a Red Blood was ever meant to, and even though it was breaking about a hundred Committee rules, Zayn didn’t seem to be concerned; something Harry found even more curious considering how keen Zayn had been on the topic of being reinstated mere moments before.

“You just missed him. Pity.”

Zayn sounds more irate than anything else while as Harry watches, the Blue Blood gets up and paces the room much like Harry had done before, doing a few laps in clear agitation. The woman tuts gently at him, setting her wine on the sleek steel box in front of her masquerading as a coffee table, holding her arms out.The expression in her gaze is coaxing him to return to her side which he immediately does; pressing himself closely into the occupied space on the love seat until he’s practically glued to his Familiar. His jaw is still tight however and his foot is tapping an unsteady rhythm as he wraps a protective arm around the human, nuzzling his face into her neck like he’s thinking about drinking but just rests his lips over her jugular, breathing in the smell of the blood underneath her skin instead.

“Would you relax? Abbadon can’t hurt me, none of them can.” She soothes reassuringly, “and one day you’re going to have to explain what’s been going on—”

“—or we could just leave.” Zayn interrupts to suggest desperately, sitting upright and staring at her in a morose sort of way like he already knew what her answer would be, “disappear for good this time, and never look back.”

“Azrael.”She cups his face and sighs, “when this is all over, we can revisit that conversation, but for now you can’t abandon your Coven in their time of need no matter how estranged you are with them. You and I both know you could never do that and still live with yourself, you’re far too noble to do so.”

_Him? Noble? Don’t make me laugh._

Harry scoffed internally while flying up to a higher vantage point as soon as he noticed Zayn’s eyes flick onto him for a millisecond, worried he’d been found out. Zayn was quiet for a moment. Harry held his breath, ruffling his feathers in a stressful manner as the other vampire merely shook his head, clearly determined to push the subject aside.

“I don’t want to talk about any of this right now.”He sighs loudly and his comment is pointed, indicating he knew Harry was still out there eavesdropping on the couple. He shoots the vampire disguised as a bird a nasty look as his grip tightens on his beloved’s shoulder. 

Harry spreads his wings in defeat, ready to head home and face the wrath of Louis but luckily for him; Zayn’s Familiar was not at all finished with the grumpy lad trying to tiptoe around the subject.

“Well that’s too bad, because it’s important that we do have this conversation. All of us. So could you please come back inside, Abbadon? This does concern your bond mate and yourself. Also it’s rude to eavesdrop on people, Dark Angel or not.”

**†**

Louis had spent the entire evening pacing the length of the South Wing waiting for Styles’ inevitable arrival.

By seven, he’s hopping mad. By nine, he’s quietly fuming and when it drags close to midnight he’s drooping and livid. After all that he loses track of time out of sheer exhaustion. He’s in danger of spending the night in a squashy wing-backed armchair that hasn’t decorated this particular foyer since the early 19th century until he’s jump startled into being roughly shaken awake by Niall.

“Get up you lump. I just got a text from Liam.”

The brunette speaks oh-so-casually like the fact that he’s in conference with Style’s best friend —and fellow fallen angel by the true name of _Jophiel_ — is something Louis should already be aware of.

The news is making Louis’ eyebrows raise to his hairline as he moves to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

“Pick up the pace Louis, we’ve got to get to Zayn’s as soon as possible.” Niall sounds impatient now.

Louis, still scrubbing at his eyes wearily and extra slowly just to be annoying, refuses to move. “Niall, he practically lives out in Newark, do we have to go right now?”He’s complaining to be a pest but also because he kind of doesn’t want to go anywhere this late, but Niall just clucks disapprovingly and yanks him, hauling the vampire to his feet.

“Now.” The hard-done-to Conduit affirms.

After an action packed day of literally running around town the last thing Louis wants to do is go anywhere right then, but he does as he’s asked, (not without an enormous groan of annoyance).

“There we go.” Niall sings cheerfully, taking Louis by the hand and tugging him along the quiet halls of the moonlit manor with the usual spring in his step despite the alleged urgency.

“Pray tell what is so earth-shattering it couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”Louis whines at his friend as he drags his feet down the steps in the entryway, wincing as he checks his watch, “or later today.” He bemoans exaggeratedly in afterthought when he gets a better look at the time. 

Frustratingly enough his Conduit refuses to say another word on the subject, just all but stuffs him in the backseat of the town car waiting for them with an air of impatience. He gives his driver the address and settled back in the plush leather seats, drumming his fingers on his knees in agitation.Louis clears his throat impatiently like he’s annoyed with the lack of response but Niall just rolls his eyes at him.

“It’s important, Lou. Can’t we leave it at that for now?” He huffs, while he fiddles with the windows, looking anywhere but at the inquisitive stare trained opposite of him.

Now he _knows_ there is something Niall isn’t telling him, but he doesn’t start in with more objections and leans back in his seat instead, mimicking his Conduit’s anxious fluttering, gazing thoughtfully out at the bustling city around them. There won’t ever be a day when traffic stops running in New York, and Louis always found a comfort in the constant ebb and flow of city life thrumming as steadily and sure as a heartbeat.

For once however he’s bothered by the sheer volume of it, of how long it’s taking to get from his place to Zayn’s, but little can be done about that since Louis is reasonably exhausted from wearing himself thin with his vampiric abilities lately, so wiped out he couldn’t sprint to his friend’s home at minimum _Velox_ speed right now if he tried.

When the car finally pulls up to the curb in front of the most dazzling glass apartment building Louis has ever seen, he starts at the unbidden realization that Niall only properly made Zayn’s acquaintance less than four days ago, and in the duration of that time they had only been at school or at Louis’ house. How in the hell did he know where Zayn lived already?

The curiosity on his face is readable, but Niall just raises an eyebrow and wiggles out of his seat, motioning for Louis to follow him. They don’t have to wait to be buzzed up, the door swings open as they approach it, the elevator doors ahead opening five seconds after they’ve made their way through the eerily empty lobby of the building straight towards its streamlined doors.

“Which floor?” Louis asks, childishly eager to be the first to press the button when they step inside the box, and feeling reasonably dismayed when he sees the button for the penthouse glowing like it’d been pressed upon already.

Niall lets out a low whistle as they hurdle up a handful of stories, the pulleys working noiselessly to zip them to the penthouse in a disturbingly quick matter of moments.

“Gotta be nice to be living off old money that never changes hands, eh?”The peppy brunette chuckles to a still sleepy Louis as the smooth steel doors slide apart to reveal an open concept glass loft annex located at the very top of the enormous apartment building, “when you’re living this loaded, why even bother going to school?”

“Gotta keep up appearances in whatever way we can, you’re a Conduit, you ought to know by now how important it is for Blue Bloods to blend in, isn’t your job to ensure that Louis does?”Zayn’s voice rings out to admonish the duo in the foyer before he rounds the corner of the living room to greet his friends.

He appears with glass of port for the two lads cradled in each hand. Louis accepts his drink with a murmured thanks while observing the monochrome white, black, and grey interior of the sterile home and it’s stagnant artworks. The sleek furnishings and fluffy white rugs overtop of stark marble floors leave him with a sneaking suspicion that this isn’t suited to Zayn’s liking at all. It looks more like a plastic surgeon’s office or an Apple store, and the lights despite being dimmed to their lowest setting still sting at Louis’ eyes.

“After all, we chose this space as a way to fly under the radar in while hiding in plain sight. I mean what self respecting Blue Blood would willingly live in a home this ostentatious?” A woman has followed Zayn out from the living room, her pretty eyes sparkling with mirth as she speaks.She curls her fingers gently around his bicep as she goes and the somewhat stony expression the Blue Blood had been wearing when the lads first got in melts into something soft and private under the touch of her hand.

“Niall, Louis, meet Jada.” He gestures to the woman at his side,“we don’t have the most traditional Vampire/Familiar relationship as you’ve probably assumed from the whispers circulating as to why I don’t attend Committee meetings and why I’m no longer a welcome member of the Coven anymore, but it’s not really important right now so I don’t want to talk about it if you don’t mind.”

So it was true; Zayn had absconded with a Red Blood and abandoned his vampiric duties, not like that would be a difficult thing to do if your bond mate was well and truly dead, blood memories gone with no hopes of restoration. From what Louis had overheard she had not cycled since her disappearance in the mid-17th century, and Zayn was blamed for it. He was eventually banned from the Council and there was no trace of his former bond mate’s blood memories stored with any of the Covens around the world.

Louis had a million questions buzzing on the tip of his tongue but at the moment, he said nothing, merely took a sip of the port in his hand to keep his mouth busy and smiled hesitantly in greeting at Jada. “Pleasure to meet you,” Louis says to her, and he means it. If her friendly nature right off the bat was anything to go by the woman seemed utterly pleasant. 

Jada’s smile reaches her eyes as she takes Niall and Louis in, and he feels a warm welcome in the marrows of his bones when their gazes lock. It’s a quotidian feeling, like he knows her from somewhere, but he can’t put his finger on why. She embraces each of the two lads in turn, and Louis can’t help but inwardly laugh at the blotchy pink on Niall’s cheeks as he takes in the curvaceous form of Zayn’s Familiar.

“The pleasure is all mine! We’ll have more time to get to know each other soon I hope, but for now we need to discuss something quite severe, I’m sorry for insisting you come out all this way so late, but it really is important.”Jada backs away as she speaks, gesturing to the living room behind her, “please come in and have a seat.”

Louis rounds the corner, still sipping his port and nearly inhales the cupful through his nose at the sight of Liam and Styles waiting patiently on a dove grey love seat, watching a blaze in the teardrop shaped floating fireplace to the right of them crackle away with gusto.

“What are they doing here?” Louis demands in annoyance and upon seeing him, Styles’ face immediately shifts into a mask of careful nonchalance.

“This concerns all of us, Louis.” The haughty vampire sniffs, “don’t go making a big deal out of it right off the bat.”

“Is this why you weren’t at the house tonight? You were too busy having clandestine meetings with Liam and with _my_ friends?” Louis demands out of impatience and immediately regrets his mistake when a look of surprised smugness spreads itself across Styles’ regal facial features.

“Oh _love_. Were you waiting up for me to come home to you?” The rat bastard all but purrs at him.

“What? No!” Louis spits back angrily and a touch too defensively.

“Then why did I find you asleep on a chair in the South wing?” Niall pipes up to ask from behind them and the devious grin on Styles’ face only widens.

Louis whirls on Niall, eyes flashing and his jaw clenched.“ _Just who do you work for?_ ” He grits out furiously through his teeth. 

Niall only shakes his head at Louis’ dramatics and perches on the windowsill nearest the fire. He takes a long drink of his port as Zayn and Jada file wordlessly into the room, expressions grave and Louis feels chagrined.They were urged to rush over here in the wee hours of the morning for a reason and his beef with his obtrusive new roommate was going to have to wait until later.

If Styles had more to say about the news that Louis had clearly been waiting in the South wing for his arrival, he didn’t let on as such. He sat up instead, fixing his gaze back on the fireplace again while Liam looked into the faces of everyone in the room in turn with an expression of tentative concern.

There’s an awkward tension, like no one is quite sure what to say or where to start and eventually Louis is the first to break the silence. “So, what’s the big world-ending news?” 

His attempt at insouciance falls horribly flat as Styles and Liam exchange a long foreboding gaze with one another, seeming as if they’re having a private conversation inside the glom, Niall continues to keep himself studiously busy with his port, while Jada shifts from one foot to the other and steals a worried look at Louis.

“Before I explain the exigency of this situation I need to know how up to date you are with your memories.”   


Zayn’s the one who finally answers him quietly, as he motions for Louis to take a seat in one of the armchairs across the loveseat Liam and Styles already claimed before perching on the arm of it, looking down at Louis seriously. “If you’ve started to remember some of our more unfortunate battles of late, you’ll have seen glimpses of our real enemies, the ones the Elders of the Council have been trying to erase from newly cycled Blue Blood’s recollections altogether.”

Louis nods, “ _Croatan_. I keep remembering that exact word, but what does it mean?”

Jada shudders delicately when Louis says the harsh sounding word aloud, tucking herself close to Zayn who wraps an arm easily around her. Styles just fixes Louis with a grave look so piercing Louis can’t help but gaze back, trapped within the green fire of it. 

“It means _Abomination_. They’re the Silver Bloods, demons of Hell and the only true threat to our kind that I’ve been trying to talk to you about for some time now, Louis.”

The handsome and severe looking vampire rakes his hands through his curls and huffs a resigned sigh before launching into the backstory Louis has been asking of them for what felt like all damn night. “Before the Morningstar fell, he had gathered his allies and they tried to overthrow Paradise. He made an attempt to take over, but he was unsuccessful as those who used to be his allies and soldiers chose to rebuke him in favour of the Light instead, and it was what turned the tides of that war.” 

He gestures between Louis and himself as he speaks, “I was a weapon of Lucifer’s, kind of his right hand of sorts until you pulled me from the Darkness. I pledged my sword to Gabriel and Michael during the Battle of Heaven because you convinced me to and when you did, you saved me and the others like me that followed from Corruption. You saved us from temptation, you saved me from damnation. I knew right then that I would do anything for you, that I would follow you until the end of the world.”

His eyes look wet and he cannot or will not continue, throwing his gaze back to the fireplace, leaning back in his seat while Liam leans forwards and picks up where Styles left off:

“When we fell to earth, it was our punishment. We had been tempted to turn against Heaven and because of those actions we were cast out until we could prove ourselves worthy of redemption. You believed we could be saved, and fell alongside us, even though you were not damned to. Back then we were known as Angels of Fire, or ‘Vampyres’, and the Red Bloods revered us as Gods on earth. It was a heady tonic to rule over such easily influenced beings, but we took that with a grain of salt, determined to seek retribution, salvation so we could one day be redeemed and return to the Paradise our prior actions had barred us from.”

Liam pauses, shifts in his chair while he looks earnestly over at Louis now clinging to every word of his story,“we took it upon ourselves to nurture and teach the Red Bloods, taking the ones acting as leaders and rulers of all kinds of civilizations on as Familiars so we could influence the beginning of a New World and teach them of the real Heaven, Hell, and all that exists between. We aided and tried to inspire these new creatures for centuries in hopes of winning favour once more, part of the goal to redeem ourselves from the curse that befell us when we spurned the Light in the first place, and for a while it seemed like our goal would be achieved.”

Liam pauses, his dark brown eyes narrowing with foreboding as he continues with his tale,“But Lucifer... well, he had other plans. He and his remaining allies, —the only ones to stay by his side after the Fall— had made a sickening discovery. They found that they were stronger if they took the blood of the Fallen, as opposed to relying on the life giving source from Red Bloods we had been privy to indulge in. In doing so they consumed the life force and all the power of the Blue Bloods they preyed upon, and while it did stand to make them stronger, that strength came with a terrible price.”

Louis paled. The Morningstar? Silver Bloods?

There was a pounding in his ears, a roaring in his veins as hundreds of memories flickered behind his eyelids in rapid succession like a light show.The final battle waged, that endless feeling free fall from Paradise, those vivid green eyes staring helplessly back at him, the shocking cold before waking up on Earth; an inexplicable, painful hunger rousing him, the feeling of his fangs first dropping down in the primal urge to feed. 

That had all been Lucifer’s doing? And Louis had allowed himself to be barred from Heaven, to be cast out with this lot? Why would he have ever done that?

He stole a glance at Styles, seeing the reflection of his past lives echoed back at him in that fiery glare, saw when Abbadon turned the tides of a fight that the heavenly side had been losing, how he locked Louis in with the same gaze he was staring at him with now, saw how the mighty warrior unflinchingly rose against his beloved Morningstar in favour of the Light, in favour of _Louis_ , and Louis blanched further.

He had done it all out of a blind faith they could be saved, allowed himself to be cast out inthe belief that they were worth saving and redemption was in the cards for them. It seemed impossible and yet, he knew it in his soul to be true; his body ached with the knowledge. He found he couldn’t meet Styles’ eye any longer, knowing full well the man’s gaze was still firmly affixed to him even after he’d looked away.

“What happened—” he croaked out to Zayn, throat suddenly very dry, “when they fed on other Blue Bloods, what happened?”

“Well. You and I were the ones to discover the first victim completely drained of their blood. That’s when everything quite literally went to hell.”Zayn answers him in a barely audible hush, “we call it ‘Full Consumption’ and to do so even to a Red Blood goes against all we stand for, goes against all the laws we laid out since the beginning of time. And once a Blue Blood is consumed they’re trapped: a Silver Blood can contain hundreds of souls in one being.” 

His face is drawn as the memories of their violent history flash across it, and for a split second the handsome dark-skinned vampire looks shockingly old.

“The Silver Bloods are as Harry said, _Abominations_. They may be exceedingly strong by far, but they exist cursed with a horrible insanity; the lives of every soul they’ve stolen all corralled like cattle inside of one entity for all eternity. Each soul is left fighting to take precedence, to take over the body, and it sickens the mind of the vessel they’re contained in. Silver Bloods don’t need to rely on blood memories either, they’ve become too strong from the aid of multiple life sources they’re endowed with to rely on it. This ability of theirs eliminates the need we have as Blue Bloods to cycle out as we age and then wait to be reborn again. So it ensures there’s no chance for the Silver Blood’s victims to ever escape the prison they’re absorbed into, and they can not try to cycle out peacefully, or even simply die if they wanted to.”

It sounded absolutely horrendous, and Louis’ skin crawls at the thought.

“In the past, Silver Bloods would infiltrate the ranks of the Covens in order to gain their trust and expose their plans for destroying the enemy for good. You see, once they take on the life force of a Blue Blood, they can walk and talk looking exactly like their victim and no one would think anything is amiss. We were fooled by this tactic far too many times.”

Zayn looks worn out, his eyes slipping closed for a moment at the influx of his memories, and when he pauses, Niall jumps in. 

“When the Silver Bloods very nearly succeeded in wiping out more than half the North American sanction at Roanoke, drastic measures were taken to ensure the Blue Bloods actually made it through their Sunset Years without incident, and an entire legion of vampires actually hid in fear of the enemy, living deep underground for several decades. But after that...the killings stopped, and the Covens were lured into a false sense of security. They kind of just forgot about the Silver Bloods altogether.”

The Conduit explains, swirling his drink in an almost frantic motion.

“Until now, I’m assuming.” Louis comments dryly, and Styles nods at him stiffly. 

“New Blue Bloods coming into their transformations have been disappearing all over the globe in broad daylight and no one knows what’s become of them. I mean, we have an idea, but the Elder Committee won’t hear of it, they’re cowards. They want to believe the threat was eradicated and will not entertain the idea that we could be living in peril once more.”He lamented in a darkly foreboding tone, “they think the new Blue Bloods are just flighty and irresponsible, trying to evade their duties by not showing up for Committee meetings or disappearing from their cycle parent’s homes to party on yachts and live like Red Bloods.”

“That kind of thinking could get us all killed.” Liam tacks on, “which begs the question; is that their intention?”

“So you think our Committee’s been infiltrated?” Louis wonders to the room aloud. History was truly repeating itself again, “is there a chance the Coven has a traitor in their midst?”

“We have no idea.” Zayn admits morosely,“but we have a feeling whoever they are, their main goal hasn’t been to kill as many young vampires as possible, it’s quite apparent they’re just doing that for fun, which is horribly disturbing in and of itself but there’s a bigger issue at hand. We believe their real objective this whole time has been to get to you.”

“Me?!” Louis splutters in disbelief, “why?”

“You’re the most powerful adversary they’ve faced for as long as anyone can remember. You are Uriel, the Uncorrupted Light.”Niall explains to him gently, “you’re the biggest threat to their endeavours and you’ve been their downfall throughout every battle in history.”

“Me? Are you sure that isn’t Michael? You know, ‘Hand of God’ or whatever?” Louis makes flapping motions with his own hands as he speaks, “I’m no mighty warrior, I’m just Louis.”

His self deprecating joke falls flat as the company around him stares back at him with varied disappointed expressions.

“Michael may be the hand of God, but you are the light that guides us all, keeps us on the path of righteousness, reminds us why we are here, what we are doing all this for. You are what the enemies of the light fear most. Don’t be so callous as to sell yourself or what you did for our kind short.”Styles bites disgustedly at him, suddenly incensed and bristling, “none of us would be here right now if it were not for your strength, the battle of Heaven would have been lost if not for you.”

“And the Croatan know it too.” Jada interrupts quickly, quelling the argument the room at large knows Louis was about to get into with Styles.  
  
“That’s why we fear what it means if the Committee is compromised, if the Covens have been left exposed. Someone had access to your blood memories and tampered with them to ensure that you would not cycle properly this time.” Her hazel eyes are gentle and full of concern as she looks at Louis, “it’s why you’re so reluctant to take a Familiar, why your memories are hazy and violent, and why you feel none of the connection or loyalty you once had in your heavenly bond to Abbadon.”

As she says the final part, Styles eyes are downcast, his hands folded tightly in his lap, and his left knee is bouncing erratically.

Liam rests a reassuring hand atop it and squeezes gently in sympathy while Louis looks on; feeling nothing still for the man across from him other than irritation and an underlying burning shame, because he’s not above feeling a sort of guilty sympathy for the pain he knows he unconsciously put in Styles’ eyes.

“Oh.” Is all Louis can utter aloud.

“I believe it is imperative you take a Familiar and soon.” Jada urges, “the stronger you make yourself, the better chance you have at possibly restoring your memories. Without them your condition could get worse, it could prove fatal.”

The very idea of taking a Familiar turns Louis’ gut, the grave faces of his friends and allies in the room are causing him to feel quite ill as well. He understands the urgency, the need to protect their way of life but in all honesty, its a lot to take in and right now he just feels so tired.Maybe it shows too, because Jada smiles sympathetically and reaches across Zayn to lightly squeeze Louis’ fingers. 

“Hey, I don’t mean right this second, but you can’t keep putting it off or you’re going to get very sick, if you haven’t begun to already.” She explains patiently.

“I don’t feel sick.” He protests, but he knows it’s falling on deaf ears as soon as he says it.

Styles has gotten up from his seat to pace the length of the room before he’d even opened his mouth to answer Jada, face contorted in an angry look of frustration.

“I feel like you haven’t been listening to any of us Uriel.” Styles says sharply as he whirls back and forth past him, “you’re weakening day by day. Do you not grasp how _serious_ this is?”

“I get it!” Louis explodes back at him, “I can’t explain why I feel no need, no desire to take a Familiar, to perform the Kiss, okay? I just can’t bring myself to do it, I don’t _want_ to do it!”

“And I don’t want you to die!” Styles vents just as passionately, halting to stare a bit manically at Louis chest heaving, voice tight with emotion “stop being so goddamned selfishly stupid and take care of yourself! Let m— let us help you!”

He’s biting his pillowy bottom lip so hard its gone white, a thin line of sapphire blood welling up where his teeth have cut through the skin, and the rest of the people seated in the room are looking elsewhere, as if embarrassed by the display of emotion, or like they’re attempting to give the two a modicum of privacy after their outbursts.

Louis feels hot tears of frustration building pressure in his eyes.“I need to go home and sleep on everything.” He finally speaks to the room refusing to meet Styles’ desperate gaze, fully aware it’s sparkling with unshed tears that mirror his own, “this has been a lot for one night, I’m exhausted, and we... we have school tomorrow, technically later today.”

The last part is feeble and unnecessary but there’s a resounding silence from the other people seated in the room that Louis takes as an acquiescence. He rises slowly from his chair, turning to his Conduit, the lad already pushed away from the sill and ready to escort him back to the town car waiting for them on the street.

“I’ll stay with Liam tonight, if this is too much for you.” Styles speaks to his back quietly, brokenly. “I don’t want to make things any harder than they have to be, Louis.”

Louis just pushes his shoulder up in a half shrug, unable or unwilling to show his former bond mate how much the pain in his words felt like a lance to Louis’ heart just then.

“We’re essentially on opposite wings, like you pointed out earlier. And it is your home too. It’s up to you, I don’t mind. Right now, I’m too tired to mind. That’s what I wanted to discuss with you when you came home.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just tugs Niall out of the room as he bids Zayn and his Familiar goodnight, his steps clumsy and his body aching all over. He gets like this sometimes, always assumed it had something to do with low blood sugar or his body adjusting to his transformation, but now with the new knowledge he’d gleaned, with Jada and Styles’ words of warning ringing in his ear he wondered if his blood memories were damaged, wondered if his supposed everlasting life was truly in danger.

And more importantly, he wondered why he didn’t have it in him to care very much.

**†**

Crushed velvet drapes and layers of blankets under a thick duvet wrap Harry’s body like a cloud, a cold comfort to slip into feeling miserable and drained after the events of the evening/early morning.In a way the bed itself feels like a vast island; the sheer enormity of it too much for one person to lie in without feeling utterly and hopelessly alone. 

He’s got the covers wrapped around himself like a cocoon, gazing blankly into the darkness, letting his vision blur it’s focus while his eyes sting with hot tears rolling in a steady pace down the sides of his face, matting at his temples, and soaking into the high thread count sheets underneath him.He’d all but flown to the house on Riverside Drive in attempts to evade Louis before he got home, having no desire to make this night any more uncomfortable for either of them than it already was. Louis had heard it from the others as well, knew all the facts and still wasn’t moved. It was exactly as Harry had feared and there was nothing more he could do. 

Heart in his throat, he choked back an embarrassingly loud sob at the notion, holding his breath at the sound of Louis letting himself into the house. The other vampire’s footsteps are slow, dragging towards the North wing of the estate and Harry sinks deeper into the covers as quietly as possible, painfully remembering the many nights they’d spent together in this very bed lifetimes ago.At the risk of releasing another humiliating noise of anguish, he rolls over and stuffs his face into the pillows, breathing deeply in. When he does, he swears he can still smell the ghost of Louis on the sheets.

And fuck does that hurt.

Letting a tiny pitiful whimper slip out of his lips he rolls onto his side, allows his emotions to continue to leak their way down his face again. He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood again when he hears the shuffling halt in the hallway.

“Styles? Are you alright?” Louis calls out to him.

Clearing his throat and forcing lightness into his tone he tells Louis that he’s fine and bids him goodnight, wincing while his lip slowly begins to heal. There’s a pause and then; “Goodnight.”

(It’s not much of an improvement, but he isn’t telling Harry to jump up his own ass and die like last year, so the small victories have to count for something.)

He would laugh bitterly about it all if he wasn’t so choked up at the present. It’s in these tiny fragile windows of solitude, he actually lets himself feel. When he lets go, when he does feel sorry for himself, and it builds up in an impossible to contain pressure behind his eyes, Abbadon well and truly feels human. It’s a sobering and horrible emotion he wishes he didn’t have to feel at all. His fear for Louis, for the Covens, and fear for their future has been crashing over him like a tsunami all week. He feels sick to his stomach to agonize over it.

His usual method of calming himself down is letting his mind drift and trying to sift through the puzzle pieces of his memories. It’s a good exercise, it helps make him tired and strengthens his vampire muscles considerably, but for once he’s not in the mood to do it.

He rises from the plush bed, letting his feet land firmly against the smooth cherrywood floor as he pushes himself up, sliding a comfortable silk leisure robe he brought back from Italy a few centuries ago still in perfect condition. Tying the cord around his waist and ruffling his hair out from where it was trapped under the collar of his robe, Harry absently makes his way out into the hallway, pacing the length of the corridor where his most treasured artifacts and art pieces either hung or stood once more.

He slows his steps after a few minutes, halting to stand in front of a bonding present Louis had surprised him with a few lifetimes ago.

Rembrandt’s _The Storm on The Sea of Galilee_ had been reported as stolen along with many precious other artworks from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in the fall of 1990. (In all honesty, a certain someone had simply taken the opportunity of the heist to steal it back for its previous owners.)

It was a gift after all, and Harry would have been damned if he was going to let some pretentious museum in Boston of all places keep such a painting. Unfortunately he wasn’t in cycle when it was on loan between museums, but someone apparently had been.

Upon the discovery of where it was and where it would be going, a certain moody vampire had staked out the team of art thieves disguised as policemen, let them do the dirty work for him and then slipped in and out of their getaway vehicle to abscond with the painting in question before they could even blink. He’d left it in a vault for Harry and Louis among other precious artifacts he’d pilfered for his friends and for himself over the centuries.The gesture itself had been so kind, Harry knew he was remiss to not have even thanked the exiled Blue Blood once for preserving so many treasured items they’d all once believed to be lost, despite not owing any member of the Coven a thing after they’d turned on him.

He was lost in thought gazing at the painting quietly pensive, when he felt Louis’ presence hovering behind him. Fighting the small smile that always threatened to break out at the mere closeness of his beloved, he didn’t turn to acknowledge him but merely nodded towards the painting they were now observing together.

“Do you remember when you first gave me this?” He murmured his question aloud, feeling the heat of Louis’ body closely, craving to be closer still to him like he used to.

“I do.” Louis sounds surprised at himself, “I don’t know what I was thinking, its not a very pretty painting. I have no facility for art.”

Harry was inclined to disagree.

“Yes you do darling. You have impeccable taste. This painting isn’t supposed to be pretty, art was never meant to be pretty, especially during that era; it was meant to be real. This painting was supposed to be awesome and impactful and it is. I love it.”

 _I love you_ he thinks privately but doesn’t say.

Louis huffs out a quiet chuckle.“You know, that’s the first memory I’ve had that wasn’t a horrible bloody battle. A nice change of pace, I think.” He sounds thoughtful, contemplative, maybe even a little bit hopeful.

“Have you tried doing your past memory regression exercises? They can really help, you know. I can show you how.” Harry offers quietly, still focusing on the work in front of him maybe a little too hard as he waits for Louis to harshly reject him for the nth time.

He’s staring so intently he almost falls forward in shock when instead of telling him no or simply turning around and leaving, Louis sighs a little again and then says; “couldn’t hurt I suppose. And I guess with what’s been going on it’s kind of important for me to try, isn’t it?”

“Do you want to try it now?” Harry asks him, trying not to appear as excited as he was when he turns to look his love in his oceanic eyes, respecting the wary trepidation Louis still regards him with, “I’m not very tired, I’m up for it if you are?”

There’s another moment of silence as Louis purses his lips in consideration and a shudder of desire to kiss the sad little pout right off his face grips Harry painfully by the chest. He waits patiently for a response.

Louis blinks at him slowly and then shrugs. “I can’t sleep either anyways, what with all the shit bouncing around in my brain after that impromptu emergency meeting at Zayn’s. Guess this could help exhaust me a little, right?”

Biting back the cheeky response he would’ve gotten away with in any other life of all the other ways he could think to _exhaust_ Louis if the lad would so prefer; Harry merely motions to a lavish sitting room adjacent to where they’re standing, all it’s pieces lovingly hand picked and staged by Louis himself over two hundred years ago right down to the immaculately roller-printed toile de jouy wallpaper.

“Shall we?”Harry knows its imperative that past memories and for the one accessing them to be around or grasp anything from their past life as objects acted as doorways, held onto precious traces of what was. Everything in that sitting room should be of tremendous aid to them.

Louis slips into the room in question silently while Harry fiddles with the dial outside the room that controls the brass lamps lining the space, turning them halfway so the light casting the room is a soft yellow glow.The gold and cream furniture artfully staged throughout the whole of the room are of elegant French provincial style and everything looks ethereal and faerie under the illumination of the lantern-like wall fixtures. It’s definitely taking Harry back to many a lazy Sunday afternoon in this room; Louis in the crown laurel chaise built for two, nestled by the small fireplace, his feet up in Harry’s lap as they sat in comfortable silence for hours, Harry content to just sit and watch his beloved turn pages wordlessly.

Louis pales under the golden glow, a tremor in his hands. “It feels like there are a lot of memories in here.” He says in a tone that only just indicates his slight panic.

“It’s okay.” Harry soothes him gently, “I can assure you they’re all good ones.”

Louis looks mildly doubtful, but doesn’t argue. He sits down in the gold and ecru checkered tub chair by the doorway, massaging at his temples like he’s trying to soothe a headache. Harry pulls a matching footstool over and sits on it in front of Louis, reaching his hands out gently for Louis to take which he does with a slight hesitancy that Harry pretends doesn’t sting a little.

“Close your eyes.” He instructs. “And take some deep breaths. Try not to focus on anything in particular but instead leave your thoughts blank and open in order to let the memories come to you, don’t force them.”

Louis’ eyelashes flutter on his cheekbones as he firmly shuts his eyes and Harry feels an ache to remember how softly they’d tickle at his cheeks when Louis’ face was close to his own, how they felt on his collarbones when his love would sleep atop his chest. He can’t focus on those memories right now, doesn’t want to accidentally share them while he and Louis are connected by their hands and mess with the flow of his concentration.

Instead Harry privately maps out Louis’ features, allows his eyes to lovingly trace every detail in the relaxed face of his mate, right down to the barely there freckles on his nose, the curve of his seashell pink lips, the sharpness in his jaw and cheekbones that left him likened to royalty many times in history.

Louis’ tan forehead creases in frustration, “this isn’t working.” He complains loudly without opening his eyes.

“It will,” Harry tells him with a small laugh laced in endearment, “you need to focus and be patient.”

“Those are the two things I excel the least at, Harry.” He says it stubbornly, but Harry’s more concerned with trying not to appear too excited at the fact that Louis actually called him by his first name for once.

He maybe blushes and beams a little but sue him; it was always so impersonal when Louis called him ‘Styles’ over the course of the last few years and he knew it was precisely why Louis would do it. For him to abandon the cool use of Harry’s cycle surname means that —at least for the present moment— Louis is trying to trust him, and it makes Harry’s insides feel golden.

“Well luckily for you, I excel at both and have plenty of patience to spare. Now try again and this time, focus on breathing in and out. I find it helps if you inhale through your nose and and exhale with your mouth.”He demonstrates, pulling the slightly dusty air of the unused room deep into his lungs and then out again, “like that.”

“Yes, thank you Harry, I think I quite know how to breathe.” Louis huffs, but does as he’s told while Harry inwardly marvels at the sound of his first name not once but twice ringing in the beautiful honey drenched tone of Louis’ voice.

He squeezes Louis’ fingers gently, smiling to himself as the lad’s breathing deepens, and the crease in his forehead smoothens out. It’s silent for several minutes, the only noise in the cozy room the sound of their quiet breaths, the creaks and groans of the old house around them and the antique _Howard Miller Curio_ ticking away somewhere behind Harry’s left shoulder.

Louis’ eyelids are fluttering like crazy, mimicking the patterns of a deep REM state, and his grip on Harry’s hands has gone lax.

He takes in shorter, quicker breaths now, soft pants and gasps like he’s reliving something breathtaking. If Harry was the type to give into curiosity he’d jump into the glom to see just what it was Louis was witnessing, but the first attempt at a memory exercise is usually demanding and can be a lot to take in. He wouldn’t want to strain or startle the poor lamb as he’s trying to focus and it’s important for this to go right, because if it does, it means Louis won’t be adverse to doing it again. He really needs to continue with his memory exercises on a more consistent basis if he wants to make it through his Sunset Years in one piece.

Louis lets out a small gasp, and his brilliant baby blues flutter open. He’s flushed and a little winded, but he doesn’t look startled or upset at all, if anything he looks emboldened and Harry’s chest swells with pride.

“Did you—”

“—I saw the day we moved that damn thing.” Louis nods in the direction of the grandfather clock still ticking away behind Harry as he speaks, “into this room and it was no easy feat. Why was it in so many pieces?”

“It was shipped to us like that from Europe. You were in a real strop about it.”Harry laughs, remembering the day as clear as could be, “even though it took no time at all to assemble, you decided you didn’t like the look of it in this room after all—”

“— and we moved it all over the house until I settled on where it was in the first place.” Louis shakes his head. “Forty different locations before I decided to just give up and had it put back where we started with it. Unbelievable.”

Harry shrugged, “you designed most of the rooms in this place and they’re all exquisite, I wouldn’t dare dream to be the one to tell you how you should or shouldn’t decorate.”

“Even if it meant lugging an enormous grandfather clock all over the estate because I threw a tantrum over it and demanded you to?” Louis laughs a little in surprise, like he still didn’t truly comprehend how deep the well of Harry’s devotion for him went.

“Especially then.” Harry squeezes his fingers one last time before letting go. “So, are you tired yet?” He laughs while as he’s asking, Louis’ mouth splits into a wide yawn.

“Apparently,” Louis huffs when his yawning ceases, looking a little embarrassed, “I didn’t think that this would be as draining as it was but...I’m glad I did this, I’m glad you helped me. I think I get it; why you need to be here, why its important for your memories and for your current cycle. I’m sorry I was so mad at you about it before.”

Harry’s shaking his head before Louis’ is finished with an apology that Harry knows he isn’t owed at all.

“No, I’m sorry Louis. While you’re right that it is important to me, to spring it on you like that was invasive and shitty even if it was unconsciously done. I’m glad we can cohabit this place peacefully, but I should’ve asked instead of just barging in like I did. That wasn’t fair to you.”Harry chews on his lip, looking down at Louis’ knees, so ashamed with his impulsive actions from the day before he can’t meet Louis’ eye.

“I forgive you.” Louis eventually murmurs,“but I really need to get to bed, we have to be at school in less than two hours, and as much as I’d like to play hooky, I’ve already been late so many times its cost me a few demerits. And it’s only the first week, I am not off to a great start.”

Harry just laughs again, feeling lighter than he has in the last sixteen hours prior. He stands up, stretching out his stiff legs and holding his hand out to Louis to offer to pull the vampire up which the latter accepts with no hesitation this time.They gaze a little awkwardly at each other for a moment once Louis is on his feet, the pair of them standing closer than they’d meant to, Louis’ arms jerk involuntarily before he wraps them around himself and he giggles in a frazzled sort of way.

“Well, goodnight then.” He says to Harry quietly.

“Wait, would you like to ride in with Liam and I in the morning? Save yourself the walk so you can actually get to class on time?” Harry offers quickly before Louis can slip away from him and take off to his quarters on the other side of their house.

Louis flexes his fingers around his biceps, eyes flicking from Harry’s face to his own feet a couple times and for a moment Harry thinks he’s going to decline, but he surprises him yet again when instead he just lifts one shoulder up in a shrug and nods with a half smile playing on his lips.

“Ok,” Harry says with a small smile of his own, “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Louis nods again, slipping out of the room with Harry who’s in the process of turning the dials to the lights back down until they turn off, swamping the little room in which they had their first real moment (in what felt like forever) in darkness.

“Thank you again, Harry. This really helped me I think.” Louis says over his shoulder as he slipped off to the North wing. “I don’t feel as queasy as I did earlier anyways.”

“You’re welcome.” He says to Louis’ back, unable to fight the grin of elation overtaking his features, “I’m glad it did help, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

He watches Louis go, standing quietly alone in front of the blessed painting that kickstarted the whole conversation and first attempt at rekindling. Then touches the frame of it gently, lovingly even in thanks, before turning and heading for bed. His chest and throat are tight with emotion.

What was it that Harry had been thinking about small victories earlier?

The fact Louis was able to walk through more pleasant memories, plus the familiarity of his use of Harry’s name certainly felt a lot bigger than anything else to him just then, like this was a positive step in the right direction, and he was able to make his way into their old bedroom and let the comfortable king sized bed envelope him in its cloud-like covers once again, this time far more comfortably, with the ghost of a grin still on his lips as he dropped off to sleep.

**†**

Being the Conduit of the world’s most stubborn vampire who didn’t want to be a vampire was the kind of thing people could win Nobel prizes for, Niall reckoned.

Louis was self righteous, argumentative and arrogant, but Niall absolutely adored him. They’d been children when Niall already knew of his duty, knew what his friend was to become, and he wasn’t scared, wasn’t surprised at all because he always knew the boy was special. To be serving Uriel, the most revered of the Fallen other than Gabriel and Michael respectively was an honour in and of itself, so knowing what he knew now about Louis’ blood memories, about the very real risk his friend could be deteriorating from the inside out terrified him beyond belief. 

It was so imperative Louis perform the _Caerimonia_ and soon, Niall was so up in arms over it he was ready to slit his own wrists and force a cupful of his blood down Louis’ throat to get it over with already. (Okay, maybe not something that drastic, especially because the laws dictated blood had be taken willingly, but he was bordering on desperate.) His duty was to Louis, to help him through his vampiric transformation, keep him alive, and Niall felt like he was currently failing at both aspects respectively.

He was drumming his pen against the enormous volume he was reading in the Repository—the ancient library full of vampiric lore, containing every possible book and/or document of the history pertaining to every Blue Blood and every one of their life cycles protected by dozens of Conduits still in the service of The Four Hundred— searching for anything that could help.

There was no mention in anything he’d poured over in the last few days to indicate that at any time in Blue Blood history one had ever endured damage to or tampering with their blood memories while they were not in cycle, but just because it didn’t seem probable didn’t mean it wasn’t possible, and Niall absolutely loathed the fact that he didn’t know what to do with the lack of information.

He currently had a volume that contained a record of every cycle Louis had been in since the beginning, a brief synopsis of his name and role in each lifetime, and nothing seemed different or out of the ordinary.

There was an instance in Russia that Niall found mildly amusing where Louis had nearly bonded with the wrong vampire because he hadn’t recognized his twin soul in that cycle, but it had been quickly and perhaps overzealously rectified by Harry.

Louis had also founded many civilizations and initially formed what had become the Senate in Ancient Rome, his might and leadership was unquestioned, unimpeachable. It left no doubt in Niall’s mind that something this time around was going horribly wrong, because the divide between who Uriel _was_ and who Louis _is_ couldn’t have been more glaringly obvious.

He tapped his pen a little harder and the ink sprayed up the length of the pockmarked desk, saturating his fingers and bleeding a little onto the edge of a document that was stuffed haphazardly in the middle of the heavy tome he’d been pouring over.

Tugging the page free in fear he’d just defaced an ancient important document, he froze at the sight of the words scrawled atop the page in a vaguely recognizable cursive:

_The Mortalization of Blue Bloods :_

_‘In order to no longer be bound in Heavenly duty, Seraphiel locked herself away for several hundred years, no longer performing the Caerimonia as she claimed to have lost the desire for it. Her blood was weakened and in the state she was in she fell to illness, ebbing in and out of stasis for dozens of centuries, still outliving her Conduit and the Priests she had employed to ensure she did not escape the mausoleum she’d vowed to live out the rest of her life in._

_No one fully knows the ramifications of her actions, her disappearance came as no shock to the European Coven when the desecrated crypt in Turkey was later discovered left to ruin; only the remains of her Red Blood companions found at the site itself. While some speculate Seraphiel is still alive, others believe she wasted away, no longer one of the Fallen, but not quite human either, and no traces of her blood memories were ever found in hopes of restoration._

_It remains one of the greatest mysteries to ever befall the Four Hundred and as such, it is strongly urged that in one’s Sunset Years they do not repeat such a tragic mistake as to deprive themselves of what is imperative to our survival.’_

_— Héraclite Seyrès_

Niall’s heart was hammering in his chest. This was it, he was sure of it. This had been the answer he was looking for this whole time. Louis was mortalizing, and it was easily remedied if he only took on a Familiar. The proof was staring him right in the face and if Louis saw it, he’d have no choice but to listen to reason.Stealing a look around to make sure he was alone, Niall slid the sheaf of paper that looked like it’d been torn out from an old journal into his planner. He stuffed the planner into his backpack surreptitiously, fishing around the bag for anything he could use to sop up the mess of ink all over his fingers and sleeves.

_There’s no point in cleaning up. The damage has already been done, the most important thing right now is to find Uriel and show him what you’ve discovered. He listens to you._

That little voice in Niall’s head was coaxing him again, the one he’d been hearing every day since he’d first begun forming cohesive thoughts on his own. It tinkled pleasantly like wind chimes in a light breeze and had never caused Niall any concern, or led him towards harm, and he’d come to refer to it as his Conduit’s Intuition (something he could inexplicably tell the source of the voice in his head found very amusing).

He stood, slamming the book in front of him closed with gusto and raced out of the Repository, sprinting to the old mechanical cage elevator, eager to get to class and find Louis before the first bell rang and they didn’t have a chance to speak until lunchtime.

Unfortunately as a human, he did not possess the ability to move faster than the speed of light and as a result, he slipped into Latin just before the last bell and all but fell into his seat next to Zayn. He frowned in surprise at the sight of Louis already at his own desk in the row ahead, had bent, taking notes.

This had to be the only time he’d been in class before the final bell for first period had rung this whole week and Niall had a feeling it had something to do with his desk partner sitting so closely beside him, their arms were practically pressed against one another’s as they focused studiously on the lecture Waldorf was waxing at the head of the room.

“I know, I was surprised by it too. I think we may have gotten through to him a little bit last night.” Zayn mutters conspiratorially under his breath when he sees where Niall is looking.Then he properly takes his desk mate’s appearance in and looks at Niall startled, his gaze taking the pen stains on the Conduit up and down in clear amusement, “Niall, why are your hands and sleeves covered in ink?” 

“Fountain pens are temperamental.” Niall sighs long-sufferingly.

Zayn clucks his tongue sympathetically in response, rooting around his school bag, procuring and offering Niall a sleek silver pen of his own. “It’s got an ink guard, shouldn’t cause you any of the trouble that ill-tempered pen of yours did.”He says it like he’s trying to hold back his laughter and Niall flushes furiously, but accepts the pen regardless.

“Thank you.” He blushes.

He’s fully aware most of the kids in the school think of Zayn as callous, intimidating and unapproachable, but he’s honestly never seen what they do. There’s a familiarity in his eyes that Niall can’t place but feels comfortable with, and the vampire has always been nothing but kind to him.

“You’re welcome,” Zayn smiles, nudges Niall’s elbow gently and then turns his attention back to the front of the class.

Niall stares a little longer, studying the profile of his desk mate, marvelling at his unfairly long lashes that sweep his cheeks each time he blinks, his almost too symmetrical to be natural eyebrows that frame the pools of his whiskey toned eyes, notes how beautiful his soft brown skin is, how his whole being seems to almost shimmer like burnished copper under the crappy school lights, how he has more than five days worth of stubble on his face and it shouldn’t be working so well for him but it is.

Niall chews an ink stained thumbnail absently before shaking himself back to reality when he realizes by the quirk of Zayn’s pouty lips that the vampire is fully aware of his ogling.

So Niall is a bisexual disaster, but he’s always been at peace with it. He knows he can’t ever be a Familiar to any vampire anyways as it goes against the rules he follows as a Conduit and while it may not be blatantly expressly taboo, it is considered horribly gauche and it’s so more than just frowned upon by the Elders, it may as well be forbidden.

Niall huffs moodily to himself, shuffling his notes from his bag around on his desk and accidentally unearthing the document he’d nabbed from the Repository. Zayn’s hand dives forwards to snatch it up immediately, his face grave as he’d read the contents on the page in the blink of an eye.

“Where did you find this?” He hisses to Niall urgently.

“The Repository. I know I’m not supposed to take documents from there, but it was just stuffed into Louis’ life records for some reason and I thought it meant something.” Niall answered him nervously.

“You’re right, it does mean something.” Zayn’s jaw works and he squeezes Niall’s wrist underneath the desk a little tighter than he’d probably meant to, a surface bruise blossoming almost instantly as a result, “but we can’t talk about it here. I need you to meet me after class.”

“Where?” Niall asks, pulling his hand back gingerly.He’s tempted to ask for the sheaf back but knows it’s a moot point when Zayn folds the page up and tucks it into his blazer’s inner breast pocket.

“The second floor, in the darkrooms. All photography classes are scheduled in the afternoons so nobody will be in there before lunch.”The vampire answers him quickly, jaw working while he looks deep in thought.

As his brow furrows, Harry suddenly turns his head in their direction looking right at Zayn and lifting his right eyebrow at him quizzically. Zayn doesn’t look back Harry’s way but does minutely shake his head. Harry narrows his eyes suspiciously then shrugs, turning his attention back to his notes.

Niall wants to ask what that was about, but he feels the Professor’s cold grey gaze on him, and tries his best to maintain an air of innocence, bending his head and copying down what’s scrawled across the board in Waldorf’s barely legible handwriting. He stays silent and continues the guise of a well behaved student for the rest of class, but his thoughts are racing wildly. If he’s feeling a slight thrill at being alone with Zayn in a darkroom, it’s quickly tamped down by his concern at the vampire’s reaction to the document Niall had found. Knowing Zayn must have been in cycle at the time the document was written, he’s wondering if Zayn knows who this _Héraclite_ is that created the concerning entry in the first place. 

Curious, he steals a quick glance across the room at Harry Styles; the lad’s head bent over his notes, pushing his curls out of his sharp green eyes, and Niall’s suspicious interest deepens.

“You’re very astute.” Zayn comments to Niall quietly, “but your mind is like an open wound, and that makes you vulnerable. As Uriel’s Conduit you ought to know how to resist the glom and protect your thoughts from potential enemies and violent compulsions.”

“They closed off those kinds of lessons to Conduits years ago, so how am I supposed to do that?” Niall asks him flatly.

“We’ll train you, Jada and I. It’s for your own good, man.” Zayn shuffles out of his seat, phone in hand and the bell rings barely a second after he’s risen, “don’t forget, you need to meet me in Darkroom B in about five minutes.” Zayn’s out the door before any of the other students have done as much as put away a pencil.

Niall stands too, packing his bag absently with his thoughts in a jumble he’s trying to sort out with much difficulty. A hand lands on his shoulder and startles him. He yelps and leaps in the air, his classmates around him sniggering in amusement as he whirls around to face Louis. There’s an apologetic look on his friend’s face, hands held up reflexively in a contrite gesture.

“Sorry, I said your name first but I guess you didn’t hear me. Are you okay?” Louis pouts at Niall a little, his azure eyes sparkling with concern.

“I’m fine, my head is just somewhere else today.” Niall shrugs as he answers.

There’s a part of him (his Conduit Intuition part) that doesn't find it any longer necessary to fill Louis in on his discovery until Zayn explains what it was about that journal that had him so shook up about it.

“Well walk me to gym and you can tell me everything.” Louis says gently, the concerned look on his face only deepening when Niall shakes his head.

“I can’t today Lou, I gotta go do something. It’s top secret Conduit stuff that you would find really boring, but we can go out for lunch today? It’s ridiculously nice out for once.” Niall suggests lunch as a distractive change of topic, and although Louis still looks suspicious, he lets it slide out of respect to the years of loyalty and trust between the two friends.

“Okay, but I don’t want to go to _R.A.R.E_ because I’m still embarrassed about what happened there the last time.” Louis confides in Niall sulkily as he slings his bag over his shoulder, stiffening when Harry sidles up behind the two of them.

“I thought that was just a rumour.” Harry sounds troubled and his eyes darken in concern. “Did you really expose your true self to a restaurant full of Red Bloods?”

“Remember the conversation we navigated in the car on the way to school this morning? The one that you yourself insisted on having since you would like us to be friends at the very least? You need to stop being invasive in regards to my transformation and let me handle this on my own, Harry.”Louis’ tone isn’t as biting as his words, but Niall’s more shook by the fact that Louis is even speaking to Harry, let alone calling him by his first name.

The taller vampire looks like he has half a mind to argue but just nods feebly instead in defeat, and Louis’ tense posture softens when he does.

“Great. Now why don’t you walk me to our next class.” It’s not a request but Harry happily cedes anyway, looking like he has to physically restrain himself from offering Louis his arm or something equally mortifying.

Louis rolls his eyes a little to Niall as if exasperated by Harry’s antics but he looks almost fond as he bids Niall goodbye. Harry nods at Niall and hesitantly guides Louis with a lightly placed hand at the small of his back out of the room and the smaller vampire doesn’t protest, but does raise a brow and smirk at his companion a little. They stride away together in sync, looking all the world like the harmoniously synergistic bonded pair they’re supposed to be.

Whatever development they worked on the night previous was clearly still tentative and newborn, but it was still progress nevertheless and Niall felt immensely relieved to see it. He was Louis’ friend of course, but his Conduit first and foremost, so he had always privately disagreed with Louis’ reluctance to his own bond, knowing it only spelt out doom for the both of them to evade it. He stuffs the last of his things into his bag and leaves as quickly as he can, dodging a few classmates as he goes.

He’s in no mood to get stuck behind a dawdling group or be subject to ridicule from Carolina and her posse of the snottiest well-to-do Red Blood minions and her frenemy/fellow Blue Blood; Clementine De Rosey.

The two girls were part of the mix of new Bloods that found the concept of Conduits antiquated and unnecessary, considered it to be threatening and displeasing to know that a simple human could know so much about them, about their history. They made it no secret they found him abhorrent and invasive, like a tick that had dug into their skin. It was one thing to be looked down upon because he wasn’t like them, but it was an entirely other thing to be found loathsome by the individuals that felt like he was an intruder to their secret way of life.

He hurried past the girls in question and paid no mind to their cold glares, gaze affixed to the staircase that led to the upper level where the art classrooms, creative writing workshops, and photography courses were held.

Upon his egress however, Clementine gave him a little nudge, (with her mind of course, the demon of a girl would detest to actually get her hands dirty after all) and he fell up the stairs, his books and notes splayed out for him to scramble after. As the coterie of mean girls sniggered and cackled amongst themselves behind him, he bit his lips as his face burned in embarrassment.

He stood painfully, his knees and elbows smarting, stuffing things haphazardly back into his bag, hoping he’d still be on time to meet with Zayn before the first bell for second period sounded.

A pair of hands appeared in his line of vision, moving to gather his Latin textbook, his planner and Zayn’s pen off the steps in front of him, Niall lifted his head to lock eyes with Liam, who’s face was creased in a sympathetic smile, his big brown puppy eyes flashing with guilt at Clementine’s actions.

“Sorry about that, I have asked her to be nicer to you.” The kind faced Blue Blood murmurs to him.

Clementine was Liam’s bond mate, and although they had been dating since freshman year, Niall always personally thought something was off about their relationship. How could Liam be so kind and Clementine be so, well, evil?Liam sighs aloud like he can hear Niall’s thoughts and the Red Blood winces, realizing that he probably did. He thanks Liam quietly for helping him pick up his things and then hurries past, leaving him on the stairs as he all but races up the second flight.

He sprints down the mostly empty, hallway skidding to a halt in front of Darkroom B. He looks around to make sure his frenzied behaviour hasn’t garnered any unwanted attention before slipping inside the tight confines of the space.

“I could hear you running from the first floor.” Zayn sounds amused, “we do have some time before second period, you don’t have to show up to class before the first bell every single day Ni.”

Niall rolls his eyes, unable to spit out any witty retort as he was still trying to catch his breath. It’s black in the room, the only backlight washing everything out in a deep red hue. It’s creepy and disconcerting, but after the run in with Clementine it feels like a safe haven.

“Yeah I heard that go down. Clem’s such a bitch.” Zayn sounds unimpressed and a little murderous, but Niall just shrugs it off.

“I don’t take it personally, it’s not about me. They don’t like the idea of Conduits in general, I get that. But I can’t help that I was born into this line of work.”

Zayn snorts in obvious disagreement with Niall’s brush off.

“Without Conduits we would have never integrated into human society seamlessly, and many vampires would have been lost without any kind of direction or risked exposure for the rest of us. She needs to mind her place, she’s a new Blood, essentially a baby and she wouldn’t parade around flaunting her abilities so blatantly like the moron she is if she had a Conduit of her own to keep her in check.” He says.

Niall’s chest feels tight, he smiles to himself a little before shaking his head, trying to get back on track as to why they were meeting in a place so private and cramped. As if on queue Zayn pulls out the page and studies it warily.

“Someone was leaving us an Easter egg.” He comments carefully, “but until we know who it was that left this page, we don’t know if this was meant to help or to threaten Louis.”

Niall nods, “I assumed as much. Harry wrote that, didn’t he? Not in this lifetime obviously, but it’s Abbadon’s writing, isn’t it?”

Zayn smiles wryly at Niall and nods, “he kept records of a lot of our secrets, like he thought it was his sacred duty or something,” he snorts, “I used to tell him that he had a ‘Metatron complex’. He didn’t find the joke half as funny as Louis and I did.”

He studies the page closely again, “but the journal that this page is from went missing in 1792. We always assumed it was destroyed in the fire that completely burnt down his and Louis’ chalet, but now I’m wondering if it was stolen before the place was destroyed.”

Niall looks questioningly at Zayn, “they had a chalet?”He was missing the more serious part of the conversation in awe of the enriched past lives his best friend had lived long before Niall was born, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help his semi-jealous curiosity.

Zayn nods again. “In southern France, it was stupidly huge. And naturally well protected, so they weren’t worried about acts of vandalism or arson. The eve of the fire they had left for Paris to aid my bond mate who was still alive at the time, as she was preparing a legion of Blue Bloods from all around Europe to aid her in a crusade against the Sangs D’Argent— the Silver Bloods.” 

At the mention of his departed bond mate, Zayn sounds distraught and horribly guilty. Niall reaches over and squeezes the lad’s hand gently without thinking. Zayn looks up at Niall in surprise and his face softens from the hard mask of anger and guilt he was wearing before.

“So you think the Silver Bloods were the ones to burn Harry and Louis’ place down?” Niall asks, trying to stay on topic, but not releasing Zayn’s hand.

Zayn shrugs. “I never really thought about it, but it’s not entirely impossible. We had bigger fish to fry the day after the battle so nobody thought much on what had happened to what was essentially a lavish summer home with far too many bedrooms for just two people. But the journals Harry kept and recorded our history in contained vital information, the ones that were lost in the fire were very precious to him. He wasn’t the only one. My bond mate kept quite a few of her own.”

“Your bond mate was Yvette.” Niall realizes aloud and Zayn flinches away from Niall, dropping his hand like he’d burnt him, but Niall plows on.

“Her diary came from the same era as that page you’re holding. And it is missing, none of the Conduits can find it and they’re growing agitated because apparently it has very sensitive information in it as well.”

Zayn’s pained expression gives way to one of deep concern. “That diary _cannot_ fall into the wrong hands. How long has it been missing for?”

Niall shakes his head,“I don’t know. I only found out about it today when I was about to check Louis’ documents out for more information about his blood memories. They’re still very suspicious of me because of the little heist Louis organized on Monday, but because everything was back where it belonged in less than a day they can’t prove it was me that stole anything. The problem is I don’t even remember what the diary looked like, so I have no clue if we’re even responsible for it’s disappearance.” 

Zayn’s lips quirk a little at the mention of the Repository robbery he and Niall had taken part in, but the half smile is gone as quickly as it came. He looks deep in thought, like this new information is truly concerning.

“First this note, now the news about Yvette’s diary...” Zayn scratches his jaw and scowls, “Jada’s going to have to know about this before she leaves for Italy, something isn’t adding up.”

Niall wants to ask what’s in Italy but the second period bell rings loud and abrasive, effectively cutting their clandestine meeting short.

“To be continued.” Zayn jokes in a mock spooky voice. “But seriously, we need to meet after school, round up Louis and bring him along.”

“Your place again?” Niall inquires hopefully.He doesn’t get why everyone was making fun of it the night before, he likes the loft.

“No, we’re taking this to some people I was rather hoping not to speak to in this lifetime if I could avoid it.” Zayn’s eyes darken as he answers Niall, “we have to call for a Conclave.”

**†**

During the turn of the century Committee Headquarters had been relocated to the most ostentatious, pompous, obnoxious district in all of New York: Wall Street.

The whole aura, the enclave of businessmen and stockbrokers is incredibly tacky and Harry’s lip curls just looking at it all through the black tinted window of his town car. The nouveau riche bumble around, yapping on their Bluetooths with an undeserved air of self importance, cutting into traffic, clutching pitchers of overpriced lattes in their hands, wedding rings that mean very little to the men wearing them flash in the late afternoon sun while the New York Stock Exchange looms ahead, its enormously famous Neoclassical structure impossible to miss. 

Harry had been in cycle when it first opened its doors on April 22nd in 1903, and upon the discovery the Committee at that time had been unfortunately drawn to it and had intended to make use of the underground corescraper as the new location for the headquarters; he and Louis had left for Spain.They were in need of a reprieve and pleased with the notion they wouldn’t be around to oversee construction, as it would only depress them.

Harry was a romantic at heart and to him there was nothing romantic about this part of New York. Clearly a sentiment shared by Louis, who sat next to him in the backseat, eyes roving over the district with a look of distaste on his handsome features, his tongue working at his cheek.

“This part of the city is so busy and ugly.” He mutters under his breath, “I personally liked it better when Committee HQ was underneath St Patrick’s.”

Harry whips his head over to Louis a little excitedly, “that was quite a few lifetimes ago. You actually remember that?!”

Louis dips his head bashfully, “I was doing my exercises when I got bored in Calculus today.” He admits, “now that I’ve been getting a better handle on them it’s been a lot of fun for me.”His eyes are bright and Harry’s chest glows with warmth. 

“I’m so glad to hear that Louis.” He enthuses, squeezing his mates knee gently, looking him softly in the eyes, pleased when Louis smiles shyly back at him.

Niall is seated across from them in the backseat, wedged between Liam and Zayn with an expression of concern of his face.“Not to interrupt the fuzzy moment we’re all personally happy to be witnessing and all, but why am I coming with you guys to HQ? Or Zayn for that matter? We’re not exactly the type the Elders are going to welcome in with open arms.” The agitated lad pipes up uncomfortably.

“Zayn’s the one who called for a Conclave in the first place.” Liam answers Niall patiently, “as estranged as he is, our laws dictate that we have to answer when called upon.”

“But I’m a Red Blood,” Niall protests in obvious fear of being turned away the second he walks through the doors, “those laws don’t pertain to me.”

“You are Louis’ Conduit.” Harry points out firmly, “you have just as much of a right to be here as the rest of us and we will vouch for you if we have to.”

His open hostility towards the Conduit has drained in a matter of days, after witnessing how devoted the human is regarding his duty to Louis. After that how could Harry not trust him?

Zayn leans over and pats Niall’s leg gently, “it’ll be fine dove, just relax.”

The car pulls up beside the structure and the five lads pour out in single file, eyes fixed on the looming building in front of them. Liam wrinkles his nose as he takes it all in, sliding his aviators over his eyes. “I agree with Louis, I miss being under St Patrick’s Cathedral.” He grumbles as he slams the car door shut behind him.

“I’m so glad to see you’re still a man of taste despite your unfortunate bond mate, Liam.” Louis huffs mostly under his breath as they slip inside.

Harry shoots Liam a guilty look. It’s not like it’s Liam’s fault Clementine is so unbearable, but he didn’t deserve the ridicule nonetheless, Harry felt like he was the only one who ever acknowledged that, but he was the only one out of the group who was the closest to Liam in this cycle.

They take the elevator in the centre of the building down several miles beneath the surface, ears popping uncomfortably with each level they descend. After a solid two minutes, the doors _ping!_ open to reveal the lobby of Committee Headquarters. It’s empty save for a Red Blood receptionist seated before the enormous redwood doors, typing away at a shiny MacBook Air, not bothering to acknowledge them until Harry’s approached her desk with the other four in tow.

“You lot can go right on in.” She says, nails clacking against the keys without looking up at the party, “they’re getting impatient.”

“Thank you, Lillian.” Harry nods, motioning to the others to follow him, “c’mon then.”

He pushes the doors open, Louis hot on his heels and Harry’s glowing with confidence at how much has changed since the day before, his chest swelling at the sight of Louis striding into the the enormous space like he owned it, flicking his gaze contemptuously across the Elder Council staggered behind the tall podiums lining the whispering gallery high above them.

 _God, they’re just as lazy and egocentric as ever._ Louis thinks in irritation, and Harry bites his cheek to keep from sniggering despite the fact he’s in deep agreement with his mate.

 _Try and keep your disdain to yourself Uriel._ Zayn warns to his friend in the glom, but he too sounds amused, _you still haven’t learned how to shield your thoughts consistently._

Louis clears his throat, only a little chagrined, while the stand-in Regent and Chief Warden of the Council; Amos Kensington (Carolina’s cycle grandfather) rises to his feet, his cold gaze sweeping the ragtag crew below him contemptuously.

“Azrael. I speak on behalf of the entire Council when I say I’m surprised to hear from you after all this time. You have called for a Conclave and as we still happen to follow the laws we are duty bound to, you got your audience. But forgive me when I say; though you may believe you have good reason for showing your face here again, we’re none too keen to hear it, nor to have you reinstated. Or are you somehow not fully aware that after what happened during the French Revolution you’ve become as good as dead to us?”

He speaks cuttingly, his voice boisterous and self important.

Harry hears Louis think to himself that he doesn’t need a flashback to know this arrogant piece of shit has always behaved this way, and because of that it was no surprise things were so bad in this cycle as they happened to be. Harry’s deeply inclined to side with Louis on the matter, and he’s not alone.

“Oh shut up Amos, you pompous old windbag. You really ought to treat your elders with more respect than that.” Zayn snips in a bored tone. He leans against a marble pillar with his arms folded over his chest, looking far more comfortable than he should be around an entire group of old vampires who want nothing more than to see his blood burn. “I do happen to be centuries older than the sorry lot you call a Council after all.”

There is a rustling of discomfort that ripples through the crowd of geezers looking down at the so-called youths below them after Zayn’s statement, but its not only the Elders now gaping at the arrogantly handsome vampire in disbelief.

“So it’s true, you’ve found a way to live as an Enmortal. How? You no longer have the cover of the Four Hundred to ensure your survival or protection.” Amos is blustered, his hands gripping the sides of his podium in barely concealed and insultingly incredulous surprise.

“Like I’m telling you any of my secrets.” Zayn snorts, “if I’m barred from the Committee, and not welcome in the very Coven I devoted all my past lives to, its pretty cut and dry for me. I don’t owe you a _damned_ thing, Amos. My only loyalty is to the three vampires and Conduit you see before you. I’m only here for Uriel’s sake, and because we have something much larger than past petty grievances to discuss.”

At the mention of Harry’s bond mate, Amos’ eyes flick over to the lad in question, narrowing in suspicion; “Ah yes, you’ve been quite the bee in the Coven’s bonnet this cycle. Have you finally come to your senses regarding your bond, Uriel?” The irate Warden demands of Louis.

“Hardly,” Louis snorts and Harry’s heart breaks at that a little, “but I did hear the Committee wants to have me killed for rebuking it. That’s certainly _civilized_ of your lot.”

His tone is dripping in icy sarcasm that doesn’t belie his true self in the slightest and Harry is pleased to see it cause another uncomfortable shift in the council above them.

“It’s not like that, believe us,” Margery Beauchamp, head of the Blood Bank Committee and Deputy Warden sighs in clear disappointment, “the choice to burn your blood lies with Abbadon in the end, we can only do or say so much to convince you otherwise, but the eventual Blood Trial is up to him.”

Louis whirls onto Harry in surprise and anger, but Harry holds his hands up, shaking his head desperately to convey that truthfully, he’s just as startled by the news as Louis is.

“I wasn’t aware of that, my cycle father Sébastien told me otherwise. Trust me Louis, I would never decide to punish you for forsaking our bond, I couldn’t do that to you and still live with myself after. The choice to be one with me again or not is entirely up to you and I promise I will adhere to respect it either way.” He pleads with his love.

He can’t express how good it feels when Louis looks like he truly believes Harry in that moment. The petite Blue Blood gives him a gentle nod of reassurance before returning his attention to the Elder council without an unkind word or accusatory stare to the man still looking at him in pure devotion even after their gazes have separated.

“We’re not here to talk about Harry and I’s bonding, we’re hear to talk about the fact that scores of Blue Blood youths are going missing while you lot are sitting on your asses.” Louis spits, his hands curled in fists. “While we’re here you may as well tell us why you’re trying to erase Silver Bloods from our history when we all know for a fact they’re the ones still hunting our youths.”

“With an imagination like that, you should be working for _The Conspiracy_.” Waldorf (who is somehow inexplicably also on the council) rolls his eyes as he addresses Louis’ concerns with sarcasm.

 _The Conspiracy_ was a team of vampires that had been organized to create fake myths, rumours, movies and books and all kinds of phoney lore to keep Red Bloods off the scent of the true existence of vampires, and they’d been doing this kind of work since the very beginning. Their contributions were incredibly important to aid modern day Blue Bloods with a seamless blend into Red Blood society without raising suspicion and for Waldorf to mock it in such a way was tactless.Harry was deeply unimpressed with the man.

“Sure, I’ll apply for a paid internship when I graduate, and you can personally draft my letter of recommendation.” Louis snorts back at their professor, equally as unimpressed as Harry was with an exaggerated eye roll of his own. “Can we keep the focus on the problem at hand here?”

“The Silver Bloods retreated after Plymouth. The Gates are holding and we are safe, this fear-mongering you new Bloods are stirring up is childish and beyond unnecessary, don’t you have better things to do?” Amos sounds bored and tired with them.

Harry bristles in anger at the lot. Louis was right, they were lazy and ego-centrical, and they would be the downfall of all Blue Bloods if they weren’t careful.

“Then explain the disappearances.” He snarls up at the council, his true form fluttering underneath his skin, just itching to be released. “Explain to us how nearly thirty Blue Bloods just coming into their transformations have gone missing from different Covens all over the world in this past summer and fall alone.”

“And then explain why you haven’t done a damned thing about it.” Zayn tacks on after Harry’s outburst his jaw clenched and his tone frosty, “enlighten us as to why we had to find this out for ourselves because you haven’t even seen fit to warn anyone about the danger this poses.”

“Because there is no real danger,” Amos retorts, impatience bleeding out in every word he grinds out through his teeth; “these are reckless young vampires, hopped up on their first taste of power and blood and they’re choosing to shirk their duties and go off the grid so they can live however they see fit instead of embracing who and what they are.”

He eyes Louis contemptuously as he speaks, “I’m sure it’s a lifestyle choice you’re all too familiar with this time around Uriel.” He adds mockingly.

“Oh go _fuck_ yourself.” Louis scoffs back to the Warden in response.

There’s a collective gasp heard round the room, the noise even coming from Liam as well, but Harry just looks on proudly at how wound up, how passionate Louis is in that moment, enraged on the behalf of these missing youths the feckless morons above them aren’t even attempting to search for.

Harry is so utterly gone for him.

“These are _children_ going missing, barely older than fifteen and you’re going to tell me they’re disappearing on their friends and families because they want to live frivolously? If you knew anything about how the youths live these days you’d be aware that going off the grid isn’t something social teens are capable of doing. If these Blue Bloods want to live like Red Bloods, sure they’d be partying it up on a yacht off of Turks and Caicos, but they’d be snapchatting and instagramming every single second of it.”

Louis sounds annoyed he has to even point this out and Harry nods encouragingly at him, in clear agreement with his disdain for the lack of action.

“They’d also be seen on their friend’s social media platforms, tagged in various posts and pictures. But there hasn’t been a word, a single sight, or notion of their whereabouts. They’re reported as missing in some cases, and cycle parents across Covens in Europe and Asia are frantic, desperate for news.” Liam points out patiently from where he’s standing behind Harry.

He’s a few feet away and to the left, looking up earnestly into the faces of the council, ever the good boy he is; but even his own extraordinary level of patience is wearing thin.

Louis dips his head at Liam wordlessly thanking him for his input, his eyes afire as he locks Amos in his steely blue gaze;

“whether or not you want to listen to reason to believe us when we tell you this is clearly the work of Silver Bloods is irrelevant. The facts still are facts. There are brand new Blue Bloods going missing on a global scale while you’re all sitting down here jerking yourselves off over how important you think you all are, while doing fuck all about this breach of security. You should be ashamed. You’re not fit to guard or lead this Coven, not a single one of you.”

His vibrating with fury and Harry could kiss him.

“Bold words from a vampire keen on forsaking his own heavenly bond.” Waldorf sneers, because it’s the only thing they have over Louis, and by now even for Harry, it’s getting kind of old.

“And why do you think that is?” He snaps at their haughty Latin professor, “his blood memories were tampered with, which means the wards you have up to protect our blood memories are useless, and you’re sitting down here acting as if a mass uprising of our enemy isn’t even happening.”

Margery won’t look Harry in the eye when he explodes and he knows that guarding the blood memories was her duty this time around, and he glares at her viciously.

He wants her to know how badly she failed and how the whole of the Coven has been affected by it. He has never felt so massively disappointed, so failed by their own kind in all his cycles and it’s making his blood boil, making him take all the excessive steps necessary to keep his true form at bay, afraid it may involuntarily erupt out of his flesh.

“You’re all a bunch of cowards.”

A tense hush falls over the room. Niall has spoken up and the Elder Council look none too pleased to be subject of rebuke from a Red Blood of all people, but Niall holds his head high, looking Amos in the eye with a flinty gaze the vampire has no choice but to return.

“As a Conduit it is my obligation and duty to know about your kind, know of the dangers you have faced, the obstacles you overcame, the world you chose to help build and I don’t see any of that reflected in the characters you’ve chosen to portray in this lifetime. You’re no better than worms, hiding underground, deep within the dirt, pretending like if you don’t see or hear the danger coming, it won’t come after you. Well you couldn’t be more wrong. This is exactly how it happened in every other lifetime, and considering you lot have a habit of repeating your history, you think you’d take the incentive every once and a while to learn from it.”

The poor lad’s cheeks are pink, his chest heaving with passion.The room is shocked into silence at the dressing down he gives the Elders; the one they needed to hear, the one that is more than long overdue but Niall knows full well he has no business or permission to give them.He catches Harry’s eye, and Harry can see how fearful he truly is to be speaking above his station like this, so Harry nods to him encouragingly, pressing his friend to continue and he’s emboldened by the gesture, standing tall as he locks his gaze onto Amos once more.

“Due to your laziness, this Coven is crumbling from the inside out. New Bloods are going missing, Gabriel and Michael have absconded and you clearly have a traitor in your midst. Louis is mortalizing due to the lack of security regarding his blood memories, while all you can do is sit in your ivory corescraper and act like your world isn't falling down around you. Well I’m here to tell you if you don’t take the necessary action, it’s going to be over for your kind and you won’t even realize it until it’s too late.”

“That’s quite enough.” Amos snarls at Niall viciously, “to assume we have sunken so low we have to listen to the idle prattle of a Red Blood—”

“—that _Red Blood_ is a thousand times the man you’ll be and have ever been in any cycle I have had the misfortune to know you, Amos.” Zayn interrupts in a tight voice crackling with disdain.

The room falls eerily quiet again.

“And you’re a fool not to listen to him.” Louis adds in a tone as aggressive as the Elder’s glaring down at the five of them, “if we all perish it will be on your foolish head, you pathetic, insolent excuse of a vampire.”

His voice booms around the room then, and everyone looks on in frightened awe as Louis sprouts in height, his wings unfurling, horns sprouting from his head while his blade slides down from its holy scabbard into his elongated talons. He stands before them, enraged and glowing with _Lux Aeterna_ staring down the council assembled in front of them in his true form, locking Amos in a steely glare.

His enormous shape is now making him eye level with the shaking vampire that had been speaking down to the group since the minute they’d walked through the door. A hulking beast stands where Louis Tomlinson stood mere moments before, shrouded in darkened feathers and scaly skin, a glow emanating from his core that was so pure, so golden it made him impossible to look directly at.

He was beautiful.

“You are dismissed.” Amos spits, barely able to get the words out in the first place.

“No, Zadkiel.” Uriel addresses Amos by his true name in a thunderous voice; “ _you_ are dismissed.”

He holds his sword to the old vampire’s throat, and a thrill of something forbidden zips down Harry’s spine at the action. “Uriel, my love, let him go.” Harry murmurs warningly, but it falls on deaf ears.

The sword digs in, and the awed hush surrounding the room buzzes with frantic energy as a noticeable streak of sapphire blood slips down the Warden’s neck.

“Uriel I beg you.” Amos trembles.

“Had I not warned you before that there would be ramifications for your disobedience?” Uriel rumbles at him, “have I not been clear on my instruction to never allow this blight on our history to ever rear its ugly head again?”

“We believed there to be no danger, and we have seen no proof of it. Uriel, please this is not necessary.” Margery pleads to the angel uselessly.

“Did I request your council Malachai?” Uriel flares up at her, wings flapping out so violently the mass group in the whispering alley nearly fall over from the gust that follows, “Did I deign for you to speak out of turn?”

Margery tremors, looking all in the world like she wants to argue but instead she shakes her head silently in response, eyes glued to her feet.

Zayn is leaning forward from the pillar he’s propped against, watching the scene unfold with a look of sickened interest. Niall looks visibly frightened, and Liam is pale, drawn closer to Harry, tugging on his sleeve.

 _You need to talk him down_. Liam urges in the glom, _or he’s going to make himself an enemy of the Coven._

 _I tried, he ignored me._ Harry rolls his eyes, shooting Liam a look that clearly says “ _duh_!” all over it; but Liam is wearing a look to match his own.

_No you idiot, talk him down properly. As Abbadon._

And well that—that just makes far more sense.

Harry slips into his true form as easily as one would slip into a steaming bathtub full of aromatic water after an incredibly gruelling day. His own more leathery wings beat against his back as he approaches his love, the sanguine creature still holding his sword at the throat of the sorry excuse for a Chief Warden.

 _If you punish him now, the entire Coven will turn on you, and as hapless as this lot is, we do need them, Uriel._ Abbadon urges him in plaintive urgency. _This is the kind of mistake I am want to make, not you. You’re our leader, you’re one of the only Uncorrupted. If you do this, there will be no going back and you’re better than that, I know you’re better than that._

 _What if I’m not?_ Uriel looks him square in the eye, his sword unmoved and his flaming gaze equally so. _What if I’m tired of being the one everyone else relies on?_

 _Then choose to rely on me, you know I would never lead you astray._ Abbadon pleads to him. _Uriel, my love please listen to me._

Uriel stares back, cold and stoic for a moment longer, returns his gaze to Amos and for a horrifying moment, presses his sword in just an increment closer.

Just when Abbadon fears all is lost, his mate lowers his sword, shaking his head as he slips back into Louis, hands jammed into the pockets of his hoodie, only his eyes betraying the fury brewing underneath an otherwise calm exterior.

“You have five days to get to the bottom of this.” Louis speaks to Amos in a calm tone nothing like his true voice.

It still demands attention and leaves absolutely no room for argument, the authority behind it has every person —vampire or otherwise— in the room standing at attention.

“I will be back and if I am not pleased with your findings or lack thereof, well... I don’t think I have to tell you what the consequence will be.”

Amos only stares blankly back at the humanlike form encasing Uriel’s spirit; the trickle of blood down his neck slowly beginning to ebb in flow.

Louis doesn’t say another word, but turns on his heel, motioning for the others to follow him. Harry slips back into his human form, trailing behind without question, falling into step easily with Louis. Meanwhile Zayn, Liam, and Niall hang back a little, murmuring to one another in urgency.

“You scared me back there, Louis.” Harry tells him in a quiet aside, the eyes of the Council still burning into their backs until the door of the elevator closes behind them.

The other three still haven’t spoken up much since they make their way out the doors towards their refuge above ground. Louis turns a sheepish gaze on Harry, on his friends as they cluster together in the tight space, wincing even though the doors slide shut without any noise.

“I’m sorry.” Louis shakes his head, looking weary and pale as he draws a shaky hand across his face, “I scared myself too.”

Then he faints.

  
**†**

“And you say he threatened a member of the Elder Council?”

“Yeah. It was totally badass.”

“It wasn’t badass it was a fucking nightmare, what are you on about?”

Louis’ head is swimming; the sound of Jada, Zayn, and Harry’s voices are swirling around above him, talking too rapidly for him to keep track of where they’re standing. He wants to open his eyes but his head is still pounding like it was in the elevator, his body is clammy and stiff all over like he’s suffering from a horrible flu.

“The Uriel I remembered didn’t take shit from anyone. It was nice to see that again.” Zayn sounds far away; amused, albeit a little terse.

“You and I both know he can be far worse when provoked, what happened last week was a mild altercation at best, but its best that doesn't ever happen again.” Harry’s voice is urgent, cracking a little towards the end with the intensity of his tone, sounding up close beside where Louis lay.

Last _week_!?

Louis winces as he forces his eyes to slit open, staring up groggily at a cracked marble ceiling lined in gold filigree. He groans aloud. Harry’s in his line of vision in seconds, face drawn, purple shadows under his eyes standing out and every line of his visage etched in fear and a deeply felt concern.

“You’re awake,” the exhausted looking vampire sounds relieved.

“Finally.” Zayn just sounds exasperated, “you were in stasis for so long we thought you were going to up and cycle out on us.”

The news is shocking but the bedridden Blue Blood doesn’t let it show, his eyes never leaving Harry’s weary face.“You look pretty rough.” Louis croaks to him, voice raspy from lack of use and his lips feel incredibly dry.

Harry’s eyes look watery as he manages a weak grin, “you should see yourself.” He teases back gently, never letting his soft gaze leave Louis’ once. 

Louis goes to move his fringe out of his eyes, wincing at the tug on the top of his hand, eyeing the IV he’s realized he’s hooked up to with an air of distaste. Harry reaches over and brushes Louis’ hair out of his face for him, the tender expression in his eyes only increasing as he does so. Zayn makes a disgusted noise behind them to which Louis and Harry roll their eyes simultaneously in response.

“So, now do you realize how important it is for you to perform the Kiss already?” Jada sounds stern, motherly almost.Louis winces when he tears his gaze from Harry’s to look her way and sees the steely glares she and Zayn are sending him retrospectively.

“Yes.” He admits grudgingly, “it’s long overdue and I’m not happy about it, but...”

He shrugs, slipping down into the duvet on the ridiculously cozy bed he’s nestled into, recognizing it moments later as his old bed in the South Wing.The sheets smell more like hospital antiseptic and a lot less like home, but it’s comfortable all the same. Harry breathes out a sigh of relief he was obviously holding when Louis answers Jada.

“Great, glad to hear you’ve finally come to your senses.” Jada speaks mildly, standing and twining her hand with Zayn’s, “we’re heading out now, but we’ll see you two in a little bit. Got a few loose ends to tie before our flight tomorrow night.”

“What flight?” Louis asks suspiciously. Harry and Zayn exchange a glance and then Harry shrugs, motioning for the other two to leave.

“I’ll bring him up to speed.” He says calmly, “go.”

“Bring me up to speed on what exactly?” Louis demands of Harry as the pair make their exit with hardly a goodbye to Louis.

Harry shifts in the wing backed armchair positioned close beside the bed. Louis spots a pillow and blanket tossed by Harry’s feet but doesn’t comment on it at the present.

“So the situation regarding the missing Blue Bloods is more dire than we thought.” Harry starts with a wince, “apparently there are Blood Houses posing as a front for Silver Bloods to traffic young Blue Bloods through undetected.”

“Blood Houses?” Louis echoes, “what are those, exactly?”

Harry winces again.

“When a Familiar is abandoned by an inattentive or thoughtless vampire some of the weaker minded Red Bloods can end up in these places. It’s not unlike a brothel, but obviously worse, the humans are treated horribly and live in inhospitable conditions, most of them get very sick and die from the multitude of vampires feeding off of them constantly, or from the lack of proper rest and aftercare.” He explains.

Louis cringes at the image slowly sitting up, leaning against the solid oak headboard, “and there are Silver Bloods taking advantage of these places? How so?”

Harry sighs. “They’ve established underground rings where they hold new Bloods up for auction, it’s sickening. These are young Blue Bloods in their Sunset Years unable to process or fight the level of compulsion used on them to keep them stoic and unresponsive, and they’re bid on by Silver Bloods or Red Bloods in service of Silver Bloods, taken away once they’ve been paid for, and you know what happens next.” The handsome vampire tells him.

Louis nods wordlessly, throat suddenly very dry. Harry rakes a shaky hand through his curls, his eyes deeply troubled.

“Jada snuck her way into a few Blood Houses in France and Italy to see if the rumours regarding the underground operations had a basis in fact, and the news she came back with was what urged Zayn to call for a Conclave in the first place, but you saw what help our Elder council of the Coven would be in their current state, they didn’t even listen to us when we tried to reason with them.”

“Then I threatened Amos Kensington.” Louis recalls in horror.

“Yes you did. It was very sexy of you.” Harry laughs in a way that indicates he’s not completely joking.

“Harry!” Louis admonishes, “that isn’t funny.”

Harrys right eye twitches.“It was a little funny.” He protests weakly, “Amos needs to remember his place. He was saved by Zayn and myself from a Silver Blood attack when Zayn wasn’t even a part of the Coven anymore, yet he conveniently forgets about that all the time.”

Louis shifts around, tugging the IV stand to roll closer to him, enabling him to rest into a more comfortable sitting position, “so about these Blood Houses. Are we going on a rescue mission? Are we going to go to Venice and take some Silver Bloods down?”

His blood pumps with adrenaline at the mere thought of encountering the Croatan bastards. He’s fought them and won before, he knows he has, he’s remembered bloody battles time after time and has more recently discovered that he’s more than willing and ready to do it all over again.

Harry laughs at his eagerness gently, “Not until you take a Familiar. But yes, we’ve received an exemption from our studies to join a Venator team in Italy and find out what’s going on with these disappearances. The Elders were very accommodating after your...influence on them last week.”

“And Venators are?” Louis bypassed the notion he’d been bedridden for a week, feeling surprisingly alert and completely like himself despite how long he’d been asleep for.

“Like the secret police but for vampires.” Harry’s voice is calm, patient, and surprisingly soothing to listen to.

“So we’re dropping out of school to join a secret police force. That would be an impressive resumé” Louis jokes to his former bond mate, still tugging in irritation at his IV.

Harry shakes his head fondly, lips twitching as he regards Louis, “our studies are just on hold, love. We do have to go back to school eventually.” He explains with a small almost regretful smile regaling the news.

“Bummer.” Louis sulks a little. “So what, I chomp down on an unsuspecting human, but make sure he’s not too weak minded to end up in a Blood House while I’m gone, and then we catch the next flight out?”

Harry coughs into his fist, “in more delicate terms we will be using the call to locate a suitable Familiar for you and I’ll be there with you so you don’t have to worry about anything like losing control or harming your human.”

“I know this has been of much concern to you but there’s truly nothing to be afraid of.” His voice is still soothing, somehow managing to be instructive without being patronizing and Louis is surprised at himself with how perfectly fine he is to be relying on Harry in this way.

It’s almost as if his blood is calling out to the man in the chair beside him and it’s striking a very reminiscent tone he can’t name right down into the marrow of his bones. Harry’s eyes are locked on Louis’, his expression wistful, carefully scrutinizing every inch of Louis’ face.

“I also need to show you how to put a shield up on your thoughts. Because as much as I enjoy hearing them, you’re sorely out of practise and you’re going to need to know how to use all your abilities in their full capacity if you’re joining the European Venator team.” Harry says to him with a small smile playing around his lips.

Louis sighs, wondering how much of his thoughts Harry had heard just then. Harry’s twinkling eyes indicate he heard everything, and Louis pouts just a little.

“So if you’re feeling up to it, get up and have a bath or shower, and we’ll meet Niall and the others at a club downtown, it’s the easiest place to grab yourself a nice late night snack.” Harry winks as he says the last bit.

Louis rolls his eyes, reaching over with his IV free hand to swat at other vampire beside him. “Do not call them _snacks_ Harry, that’s terrible.” He laments while trying to fight a giggle. He’s not sure if he’s amused with his company or just a bundle of nerves or if it’s both.

“It’s probably both.” Harry points out unhelpfully.

Louis glares at him. “Get out of my head.” The smaller vampire scowls, throwing back the covers and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

The IV tugs again and he hisses uncomfortably, slowly peeling the medical tape off the top of his hand and easing the needle out of his skin while he tries not to gag. From his peripherals he can see Harry watching him, hovering slightly with a protective energy and deep concern creasing his handsome brow.

“I’m fine, would you stop it?” Louis shakes his head and stands up, swaying slightly and then fully righting himself with tremendous effort.

“I’ve been by your bedside for a week terrified that you weren't going to wake up from stasis. Give me a break will you? Being protective of you is a long instilled habit of mine, and it’s not like its an easy one to break.” Harry huffs, moving around him to make the bed up again.

“You’ve been here this whole time?” Louis’ eyes widen, “but what about class?”

“You sound like Liam.” Harry grumbles at him, reaching out and pinching his hip gently.

“Speaking of, is he coming with us?” Louis asks, “and is he bringing Clementine?” He tries not to let the dread creep into his voice when he asks, but judging by the look Harry shoots at him, he is unsuccessful.

“Yes he’s coming with us and no she’s not coming too, but you guys need to go a little easier on him regarding Clementine. It’s not his fault she can be—”

“—a nasty bitch?” Louis supplies helpfully.

“ _Difficult_.” Harry corrects sternly, tucking the comforter in, reaching over to fluff the pillows.

 _Whatever, that’s basically the same thing._ Louis thinks to himself as he makes his way to the bathroom.Harry snorts at that in response, and Louis wills the wall in the glom to go up and block Harry from reading his thoughts, surprised when it actually works on the first try.

“There you go.” Harry sounds impressed with him, and Louis determinedly ignores the rush of warmth he feels just then at the pride in Harry’s voice.

Louis has missed the deep luxurious tub in this wing, set in the floor and nearly the size of a small swimming pool, but it takes too long to fill and although he’s sorely tempted he’d be there all night if he was to draw a bath. So he makes his way to the enormous glass shower instead, turning the handle to the large rain simulation shower-head, while slowly shedding himself of his clothes.

He hears the bathroom door behind him click shut and whirls around startled; half expecting to see Harry standing inside with him, but it’s evident the other vampire had merely shut the bathroom door for him as Louis had forgotten to do so when he’d entered the en-suite.

“Thanks!” He calls out, mildly embarrassed, and he swears he can hear Harry laughing to himself in the other room.

He nabs a hooded terrycloth robe from the cabinet beside the shower, leaving it on the counter beside his pyjamas. He sighs as he steps into the shower, immediately engulfed in steam. It’s soothing to be back on his feet and despite the fact he hasn’t really been fully functional in nearly a week, he feels energized somehow, motivated. He wonders if it had something to do with the fact that he has a purpose, that something in his life is starting to make sense again.

His more recent flashbacks have been reminding him of what, of who he used to be, and although some things haven’t changed —like his reluctance to bond when he’s this young— he feels different; stronger. When he stood up to Amos he’d felt more like himself than he was expecting to.

He’d grown up in the last eighteen years as Louis Tomlinson, an emancipated minor living in a crumbling estate left to him by his cycle grandparents with no friends other than Niall; the one he’d grown up with and known his whole life. But that was one facet of his true self and the more he’d resisted that, the weaker he had become and what had happened in the elevator was a result of the deliberate negligence he’d been showing the vampire side of him. He was Louis and he would always be Louis, but he was Uriel too, he now knew in his heart he’d been foolish to try and fight that.

Lathering his body with an exuberantly scented body wash he’d eyed in the corner that he knew for a fact wasn’t his, the smell of spiced apples filled the shower while Louis let his eyes slip shut dreamily, enjoying the pleasant scent. As he dragged a washcloth over his tanned skin idly, he felt the blankness in the back of his head creep closer; letting his mind wander under the spray of warm water.

He takes some calming breaths the way Harry had taught him to, trying to peel at the layers of his memories, figuring there was no harm in multitasking, he could shower and do a few memory exercises at the same time.

He feels his mind go blissfully flat like it had done in the sitting room the first time, old lives flickering just out of reach like pages in a book while simultaneously dancing behind his eyelids like a moving picture, jumping from scenery to scenery, different faces, different clothes and hair styles meshing haphazardly over one another, fighting to take ascendency in the forefront of his mind.

He gets a flash of something, a secluded cove somewhere perhaps? It’s vivid, its lush and it’s tangible, so he latches on. He hears the distinct roaring of a waterfall somewhere, and the humidity of the room increases, holding a hot sticky weight like he’d suddenly vaulted himself miles into the heart of the jungle:

_Uriel blinked water out of his eyes and pursed his lips thoughtfully, his task at hand of cleaning mud and blood off of his skin halted by the shape that had blurred past him. He wasn’t sure he was alone anymore and he felt exposed, which was silly. He was an indestructible angel, immortal and unchallenged, so why did he feel like there was a set of eyes upon him, watching his every move, making the tiny invisible hairs on his body stand on end?_

_He was only vulnerable in the sense that he was naked and dripping underneath a waterfall; churning down the incline above him into a slightly cooler body of water up to his torso in depth. The shape blurred past again, coming in closer, making no motion to be discrete and Uriel’s concern dissipated, now fully aware of who was watching him. He slid up higher on the rock floor, wading through the water until his lower back and tops of his thighs were hitting the humid air, smirking when an appreciative sigh sounds from behind him._

_“Oh darling,” Abbadon is upon him in a second, grinding against his backside, pressing himself as close as he can possibly be to Uriel, “you’re going to be the death of me.”_

_He runs a loving touch down his bond mate’s back, pressing an open mouthed kiss against the junction of Uriel’s neck and shoulder, biting at the skin, his other hand making it’s way around his hip and inching to his groin._

_“I looked for you after the training session.” Uriel says, unable to keep the petulance out of his voice, “I gave up looking after a little while, I needed a wash badly.”_

_“I can see that.” Abbadon sounds amused, “breaking in those new Bloods a little more roughly than needed as usual, I would expect nothing less from our Regis.”_

_His voice is sweet like agave, hands rough like hand sewn leather. His full lips catch Uriel’s earlobe, teasing the flesh with his teeth as he wraps a sure hand around his lover’s length, tugging at it playfully._

_Uriel shrugs, suppressing a shiver of desire, batting Abbadon’s hand aside, “how else are they going to learn?”_

_He spins around and leaps; Abbadon catching his lithe form easily —the warrior was expecting it after all— wrapping his strong thighs around his beloved’s hips and gazing happily into his vividly green eyes, still feeling the high from their bonding ceremony four days previous, and pulls him in for a hurried, biting kiss._

_“That’s enough talk about the Coven for now, my love. Take me.” Uriel purrs salaciously but urges his lover in desperation all the same._

_Abbadon is more than happy to comply, strong arms holding Uriel up to carry him and press him against the rock face underneath the waterfall, the water sluicing over their skin, reminding them of Paradise, that feeling when you first stepped in and were washed clean of all earthly sin._

_They may be creatures of darkness now, but whenever Abbadon held Uriel in his arms, it always felt like they were still lying in the sun._

_Abbadon had a hand around the both of them, Uriel’s eyes rolling back into his head in pleasure at the none too gentle intensity Abbadon set his pace at; hips pressed hard enough into Uriel’s own to leave violet bruises in their wake. They healed so incredibly fast now, Abbadon was always on some sort of mission to leave a lasting mark on his lover after he’d lain with him, and it made Uriel’s veins burn with desire every single time._

_He loved him._

_When he looked into his eyes like this it was just them, nothing else mattered, nothing else could hold precedence in Uriel’s mind. Abbadon was his eternity. The joy in every life he ever lived was reflected back in the gaze staring at him, and it would never die. They would never die. He could love him until the end of time and then a little longer. And he planned to._

_Abbadon’s gaze was a burnished glow of affection when he looked back at Uriel, as he had heard every thought and felt every emotion Uriel had just felt in that moment, a special side effect of the bond; they were no longer closed off from each other in the glom at all anymore, constantly connected until the end of their cycle._

_‘I plan to love you until the end of my life, and then for an eternity longer.’ Abbadon sent to him in his mind._

_‘I want you inside of me.’ Uriel clutched him greedily, exhilarated by the touch of his Dark Angel’s rough hands._

_Once again, Abbadon was more than happy to comply with his lover’s needs, said hands drifting down to where Uriel was yearning for him the most..._

Louis gasped aloud snapping his eyes open, his cheeks a vibrant scarlet and he knew it.

The shower was suddenly too warm, almost unbearable and he made a quick business of washing his hair and rinsing the excess soap off of his body before he shut off the water. He emerged glistening and wet, looking in the mirror at his blotchy cheeks and scowling a little at the fact he was flushed all the way down his chest, and that he was half hard. He throws the hooded robe over his body, tying the belt tightly around his middle, still burning up in private shame at the promiscuity of the flashback he’d just been in the midst of. 

It was loving and romantic all the same, but the intensity of it, of the look he’d seen in Abbadon’s —in Harry’s— eyes still had him weak in the knees.

Louis shook his head, pulling the hood of the robe up over his wet hair and stumbling out of the en-suite, relieved when he found the bedroom empty, a set of clothes laid out for him on the neatly made bed. There’s a soft navy button up he knows he looks tan in, the shade bringing out the startlingly azure hue of his eyes, paired with fashionably ripped black jeans. He burns up in embarrassment at the sight of his boxer briefs lying innocently next to his jeans, the idea of Harry rifling in his underwear drawer somehow not inciting any irritation but more of a giddy abashment.He blames the flashback for these new but oddly reminiscent stirrings below his gut as he pats himself dry and dresses quickly, padding barefoot back into the bathroom, flipping on the fan that he’d forgotten to turn on in his rush to exit the shower. 

He messes with his fringe, putting an air dry mousse and pomade in for texture, drying his hair with the cold shot of his hairdryer on lock as to not singe his roots, mussing with a small round brush to give himself that expertly tousled look he’d been perfecting for years.

Since they were going to a nightclub after all, he rummaged around the top drawer of the bathroom, thrilled to see some of his products were still where he’d left them and he drew out a tube of gold liquid eyeliner, dragging a subtle swoop across each lash line. He adds a little bronzer to his face as well, not liking the tired look his bout of stasis had left him with, adding a touch of mascara to his top and bottom lashes just for the hell of it before he emerges from the bathroom again.

Harry had returned by then, knuckles raised against the door jamb in preparation to knock before entering, but he froze at the sight of Louis instead, lips parting in awe and Louis feels his stomach do an uncomfortable flip at the way Harry’s looking at him.

“Oh Louis. You’re going to be the death of me.” Harry breathes quietly to him, and Louis’ cheeks burn for what feels like the zillionth time. 

He maintains a strong shield on his thoughts, very unwilling to let Harry in and hear just what he’s been reliving for the last ten minutes and Harry’s brow creases in concern, mistaking the terse look of concentration on Louis’ face for one of irritation. “I just meant that you look great, you’re so gorgeous Louis. Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—”

“—no no, don’t apologize, that was nice of you to say. Thank you.” Louis interrupts him gently. Harry looks so visibly startled by the soft voice Louis uses on him, it’s almost comical.

He’s dressed well, in what appears to be a semi opaque black button up with rose decals on the shoulders tucked into a pair of high waisted silver trousers with a flare to the leg and shiny heeled ankle boots making him taller than he already was, his hair up in a half pony and his lips look suspiciously pinker than they did when Louis had seen him earlier and his nails are jet black and shiny.

“You look great too,” Louis offers lamely, his cheeks still feeling irritatingly warm, “that look really works for you.”

Harry’s eyes glow at the sentiment and he stands straighter, his head lifted proudly with Louis’ words. “Thank you Louis.” He smiles, deeply genuine, his hands twitch before he stuffs them jerkily into the pockets of his pants. Louis’ eyes track the movement almost unconsciously, as if committing said hands to memory, (something he’d recently discovered he doesn’t need to do).

He makes a beeline for the closet on the other side of the room, rummaging through Harry’s things for something to do with his own hands. He claims he’s looking for the beat up motorcycle jacket he swears he’d left in this closet as opposed to the one upstairs, but after a minute of useless searching he gives up, chewing his lip in frustration. When he inquires about the jacket, Harry shakes his head in response as he’d not seen it in the closet when he was going about moving his things in.

“It’s pretty chilly out Louis, why don’t you take my denim shearling in there instead? It’ll be warmer than your old jacket, that thing had holes in it.” Harry says in a smothering kind of way. 

Louis huffs but nabs the cozy looking outerwear Harry offered him. “You promise you didn’t throw it out?” He asks Harry as he slips into the jacket, folding the cuffs of the too long arms.

Harry laughs, shaking his head as he reaches around Louis to draw out a woollen midnight blue trench.“I promise.” He vows, towering over the other vampire in his tall boots, sliding his arms into the floor length coat, “lets get you some shoes and get out of here. We’re meeting everyone at The Bank.”

A popular but seedy lgbt club, known for their leniency and the fact they tended not to card, and a smart choice for Louis to find a potential Familiar as none of their classmates would ever set foot in a place teeming with such diversity, therefore making this first experience less stressful for Louis.

He smiles, making his way down the elaborately furnished halls with Harry by his side, locating his slip on Vans, locking up the estate behind him and sliding into the backseat of the comfortable black Jag that had been idling on the curb waiting for them.He’s still uncomfortable however with his mind flitting back to his shower flashback every so often and he’s worried the absence of his usual need to fill the silence will be suspicious to Harry. Fortunately however, the vampire is clearly taking Louis’ restless fiddling as a bout of nerves.

“You don’t have to worry Louis.” Harry says to him softly, “This is something that comes natural to us and you’re going to be fine. Besides, I’ll be there the second you need me.” The soft cadence of his voice is sending shivers down Louis spine and through his legs, making his knees knock together. It’s the same hushed and gentle tones Abbadon murmured sweet nothings in, his lips as velvety soft as his voice, brushing against Louis’ earlobe in his memories.

He suppresses a shudder of desire. 

“I just need to not think about anything right now, or I’ll overthink and I’ll get stressed out.” Louis speaks quickly, hoping to quell the fluttering in his stomach causing him to feel almost nauseous.

Harry nods in understanding, reaching over to squeeze Louis’ thigh in a way that’s meant to be reassuring but Louis starts at it, cheeks flooding with colour again and Harry withdraws his hand quickly. “Sorry,” the other vampire looks pained, “I keep overstepping with you, don’t I?”

He folds his hands into his lap and sighs, looking chagrined with himself. 

How is Louis supposed to tell him that it wasn’t that the gesture was an overstep? How can he say it’s the fact that since the flashback, any close encounter or physical touch from Harry has his heart racing, makes his blood hot? That the mere touch from the palm of Harry’s hand on his thigh was enough to make Louis’ cock twitch in his pants, and he’d been terrified Harry would notice? Louis buries his face in his hands and laughs at himself bleakly. 

“I’m just panicky and jumpy.” He breathes through his palms, “it has nothing to do with you, I swear.” He lies through his teeth.

“Hey, don’t panic.” Harry gently pries Louis’ hands away from his face, “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

His eyes are staring intently into Louis’ own, lips parted, stray ringlets falling out of his half pony and into his eyes as he pouts in gentle vexation at his former bond mate, and Louis is overwhelmed with the sudden desire to kiss the man in front of him.

He nearly falls into the inviting lap he’d be more than welcome to crawl into as the car jerks to a halt in front of the booming nightclub and Harry’s driver announces that they’ve arrived. Louis could cry from relief, scrambling to unlatch the door and throw himself outside, the chilly night stinging his cheeks and he’s grateful, the briskness a huge contrast to the heated intensity of the backseat he’d been in seconds before. He gulps the cool air in, passing a hand over his face as he does, hearing the slap of heavy boots approaching him, accompanied by a lighter step and a distinct clicking of heeled shoes.

Niall, Zayn, and Jada are standing in front of him and Harry, wearing nearly identical looks of worry on their faces when they appraise Louis and the state he’s in. Before they can ask however, Harry’s hand lands on Louis shoulder and he shakes his head in response to the trio.

“He’s just nervous, don’t bug him about it.” Harry says in a warning tone to the others, “where’s Liam?”

“Running late, we asked him to ditch Clementine’s friends cause we don’t need her posse hanging off of her while we have important things to discuss. He wasn’t too happy about it.” Zayn answers flatly, checking his phone as he speaks.He’s got a new silver hoop through his nose, the captive ball holding it in place in the shape of a tiny hand presenting its middle finger and Louis chuckles at it, smiling to himself now as he stands up straight, taking in the night looks each of his friends have thrown together.

Niall is in a patterned button down, the bright and fun colours and geometric shapes popping out from underneath a worn bomber jacket much like the one Cruise wore in Top Gun, a pair of faded blue jeans clinging to his legs, his usual sneakers traded in for a pair of smart looking brown boots. 

Zayn’s all in black, his pants covered in a multitude of zippers, straps and buckles, straddling the line of military style/ bdsm fetish wear. His boots look like they’re actually part of his pants, accented with a low flashy silver heel. He’s got a thick black fur jacket on, his hair gathered in a messy bun on the top of his head, revealing the closely shorn sides of his undercut, an unlit cigarette dangling from his bottom lip, showing no sign of a chill despite the mesh turtleneck he has on underneath his coat, his striking amber eyes underlined in kohl. Jada is stunning in a deep wine red velvet jumpsuit, a teasing keyhole cut out above her cleavage, the suit held together at her throat in a choker style. Her hair was messy and teased down her back, the legs of the jumpsuit were more flared than Harry’s trousers, and slit open at the sides to reveal tall black boots, and she’d donned a long black trench left hanging open. She had her head turned away from her friends while she rooted through Zayn’s jacket pockets for his cigarettes.

“You guys look amazing.” Louis offers weakly, his body still sore and achy, so he leans on Harry for support, leeching the warmth from him as Harry winds an arm around him easily, his grip strong and secure.

“So do you.” Zayn lights his smoke and winks at Louis, “gunna break some hearts tonight, find yourself a decent snack or two?” 

Louis blusters, and Harry coughs faintly, like he’s trying to stifle a laugh. “Why do you insist on calling your Familiars _snacks_?” Louis groans, causing Harry to burst out into the fully unbridled laughter he’d been trying so hard to resist.

“Hey it’s not my fault, it’s the culture you’ve cycled into, my friend.” Zayn points out with a small chuckle of his own, holding his pack out to Jada who coos at him and lights her own cigarette with the end of Zayn’s.

“Most people take to it as a complement anyways.” Niall adds, grinning a little sheepishly, “like if I was told I was out here looking like a snack I’d be flattered.”

“Forget snack. You look like the full course, Niall.” Zayn tells him with a sly wink and the poor Conduit turns brilliantly pink and looks down at his shoes, while Jada squeezes Zayn’s arm and looks over at Niall in a bemused sort of way.

“He’s right, I could just eat you up.” She all but purrs at him and Niall just smiles and flushes even further. He thanks the pair in a flustered kind of way, turning to look up the sidewalk, his face falling into shy relief when he sees Liam approaching them. The others turn around to greet their friend, smiling at first then wilting when they see who’s clinging to his arm.

“Ugh.” Louis grumbles under his breath.

Liam looks dashing, donned in tan trousers tailored specifically for him, a shiny biker jacket thrown overtop of a cable grey button down, sidestepping a puddle as to not muss his matching biker style boots. His bond mate Clementine is in a tight baby blue bandage dress, exquisite thigh high boots in a pastel lavender so pale they’re nearly white. She’s wrapped in a calf length sable, the collar turned up, nearly concealing her chandelier earrings and her hair in an elegant French roll. She looks beautiful, but her expression is cold and hard and the others tense in apprehension when she approaches them with Liam. They greet the couple tersely, eager to just get inside and get out of the wind and cold but Liam hesitates, tugging on Clementine’s waist and clearing his throat like he’s trying to coax something out of her and she huffs, clearly annoyed as she turns her sharp gaze onto Niall, brushing her blunt ash blonde bangs out of them.

“I’m sorry about how I’ve been treating you at school.” She says to him in a tone that clearly states otherwise, “I won’t be doing it anymore.” She looks over at Liam and rolls her grey eyes in annoyance. 

Niall appears unconvinced, but Liam looks deeply relieved, so the Conduit sighs and accepts her lousy apology, suggesting loudly to the rest of the group that it’s high time they headed inside and the others quickly agree in unison. Louis is gripping Harry’s side tightly in trepidation, and Harry keeps his arm wound around Louis’ hips as they make their way into the pulsing club, the lights flashing different colours over them, the outside chill now interrupted by a wall of heat generated by the mass of bodies congregating the upper and lower dance floors.

“Do you want me to grab you a drink?” Harry doesn’t need to shout over the music for Louis to hear him but he does anyways.

“No, I’ll come with you.” Louis says, unable or maybe unwilling to detach himself from Harry’s side. Harry notices but he doesn’t let on in an arrogant kind of way, merely squeezes Louis’ waist gently, and leads him to the steel bar lining the left hand side of the space without another word to their friends behind them. 

As the pair made their way to the other side of the building Zayn and Jada hesitate, reaching out and tugging Niall aside in the opposite direction. “We need to have a word with you,” Zayn said to him, throwing a furtive look at Liam and Clementine wrapped up in one another and completely unaware of the fact that their friends were already dispersing on them. 

Niall nods wordlessly and follows his two friends to the upper level without question while Harry and Louis tuck themselves into one another at the bar and survey the people out on the dance floor on the other side of the room.

“So,” Harry laughs lasciviously, biting around the straw in his noxious purple hued drink and staring holes into Louis as he does so, “who looks delicious enough to tempt you tonight?”

A midnight haired youth twirling on the dance floor has been catching Louis’ eye since they’d entered the bar and Louis nods in the direction of the male who’d caught Louis’ gaze again and was now holding it fiercely, as if daring the vampire to come out on the floor and take him right then and there.

“Him.” Louis says softly, “he’s perfect.”

Harry looks around for the target, eyes lighting up when he spots him, and he nods in agreement. “Oh yes, I think he’ll do quite nicely for you.” He purrs.

Louis sulks at Harry. “Don’t be creepy about it.” He complains, “I still can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Harry’s teasing look is wiped from his face, replaced with one of concern as he regards his companion. “If you don’t you could get worse Louis. Transforming into your true self has nearly incapacitated you on more than one occasion now.” He points it out as gently as he can.

“I know.” Louis stirs his drink with zero enthusiasm, “but I’m still allowed to feel a little reluctant about this okay? It just doesn’t feel right to do.”

“Our laws and practices dictate that no harm comes to a Familiar, that they be treated with the utmost respect and care, especially considering the gift they give us is far more precious than anything we could hope to return. Louis you need to do this and you don’t need to worry about hurting your human, it doesn’t hurt them and after it happens he’ll feel nothing but contentment, bliss, and devotion to you. I promise.”

Harry’s eyes are gentle, pleading with Louis to understand and he does, really. He just can’t help that he feels a sharp bite of worry, tangible fear he isn’t sure how to suppress no matter how many times Harry reassures him that he needn’t be so concerned.

“Okay,” Louis throws back his drink and steels himself, squeezing Harry’s forearm before pushing himself away from the bar, “I’m going in.”

**†**

Once he’s squeezed in between Jada and Zayn in a more secluded section in the upstairs portion of the noisy club, Niall demands to know why they’ve been so cagey and weird with the rest of the group for the past week.

“You’ve got to tell me what is going on with you two.” He sighs, fiddling with the label on the beer Zayn had bought him, “what’s so secret we can’t talk about it in front of the others?”

“We don’t trust Clementine.” Zayn says flatly, his voice so low Niall has to strain to hear it over the pulsing music weaving up the stairs to their cushy little booth.

“I mean, I’m not the biggest fan of her either, but if this has something to do with the disappearances, shouldn’t we be making sure others are also aware?” Niall asks, further puzzled when Jada and Zayn exchange a dark look over his head at one another.Jada sighs, and reaches over to touch Niall’s wrist gently.

“What we’re about to tell you has nothing to do with the disappearances, but it could affect the rest of the Coven to know about it, so we’re telling you in faith that you will keep it between the three of us. For now.” Her sparkling hazel eyes bore into him so intensely as she speaks he can’t pull his gaze away if he wanted to, watching every movement as she carefully lifts her tumbler of whisky and takes a steadying sip from it.

“Can we trust you?” She pushes, lips shining from the drink and parted, he feels himself unconsciously lean in a little and he blushes when he realizes what he’s doing.

“Of course you can.” Niall tells her. He glances at Zayn in earnest as well, hoping to convey as much as he can in his expression to reassure the pair. Zayn smiles at Niall and takes his other wrist in his own gentle grip, thumbing over his pulse point, and Niall feels his stomach swoop at the touch of Zayn and Jada’s hands on his skin.

“As you know, Jada and I don’t have the most traditional relationship a vampire and their Familiar are supposed to have. What you don’t know is that we’ve been in this relationship since the mid 1700’s.” Zayn chews his lip as he divulges further and steals a glance at his beloved, “Jada is a witch.”

Niall feels his eyes widen as he looks between the pair in obvious surprise, “a witch?!” he echos, “that is...news.”

Witches and vampires don’t typically run around the same social circles and if anything they were almost considered ancient enemies for several centuries now, due to the fact that witches had powers that vampires knew not of and definitely had no interest in sharing. The fact these two were in a relationship in the first place was already unheard of but to find out that she was a witch on top of that was truly shocking.

“I’m a pretty ancient being, not as old as my heart mate here, but I’m not entirely mortal either. I am a witch it’s true, I am also a goddess of eternal youth. My real name is Hiebe, and I originally met Azrael in Greece over two thousand years ago.”Jada explains lightly, taking in Niall’s bewildered looks with a tinge of amusement, “we never meant to fall for one another, when we first met it was because there was a spell I was determined to master but I needed his help with it, help he very reluctantly gave at first.”

“I wasn’t sure I could trust her, but she explained to me the spell was for the protection of her Coven; she had everything she needed for it except for one item that would be impossible for a witch to retrieve on her own. Something only a Blue Blood could wield.” Zayn takes over the story, sipping his own glass of whisky in a deeply thoughtful sort of way, his eyes unfocused as he reminisced.

“What was the item?” Niall asks, fearing he may already know the answer.

“The sword of Gabriel.” Zayn admits quietly, and Jada’s fingers tighten around Niall’s wrist as Zayn answers him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Niall splutters. “It was you who stole the sword? Zayn how could you?!”

The sword of Gabriel was ancient legend, lost during the epic battle between the Silver Bloods and Blue Bloods during the French Revolution. It had been rumoured in the ancient texts Niall studied to be the only thing that could have turned the tides for them and won that particular battle.

To know now that Zayn was somehow responsible left an incredibly bitter taste in Niall’s mouth. He felt an anger, a betrayal he didn’t understand and wasn’t quite sure was entirely his own wash over him. Jada and Zayn at least have the decency to look horribly guilty as they share their story with Niall, but a part of him somehow still feels deeply unmoved by it.

“I promised him I would teach him to do the same spell for his own Coven’s protection in exchange for the use of the sword. He hesitantly agreed to it and when we met again in France a little over eight hundred years later, Zayn had located the sword and had already begun to feel a distance from his own Coven he couldn’t explain.” Jada looks softly over at Zayn who stares just as gently back as she speaks to Niall.

“It was you.” Zayn says to her, “once I found you again I was damned if I was going to lose you.”

He breathes out heavily and refocuses a very intense gaze on Niall still sitting in silence waiting for an explanation from the pair, “my bond mate and I weren’t in love, Niall. We had a duty to one another and to our Coven, and while our loyalty and devotion to our kin never wavered, I found with each cycle we found each other in we would put off our bonding for as long as possible. She was a leader; had a natural born duty to her people and to her cause whereas I was more of a romantic, and she didn’t seem to have time for that.”

His hands are tearing up the cocktail napkins in front of him now, frantic and unfocused on the carnage of paper in front of him, Niall takes one of Zayn’s hands back, hoping to soothe the agitated vampire instinctively, Zayn throws him a puzzled but pleased look in response, stilling his frantic motions.

“Her duty to the Coven and her place in it made me realize she would be strong enough to survive without me, without our bond and I was determined to use that spell Jada had found to increase the chances of her protection. I never wanted anything bad to happen to Yvette because of me, I did still love her in a way.”

Zayn urges Niall to understand, “if we had known the outcome of the battle would be affected, if we had known someone was lying in wait to steal the sword from us—”

“—we never would have done it.” Jada finishes when Zayn stops abruptly, clearly too choked up to speak, “the ramifications were horrific.”

She explains that when they were using the sword to cast a spell of protection and immunity to Les Sang Bleu Coven before the battle, an unknown force entered the glom, masking their identity from Zayn and Jada effortlessly in a successful ploy to deter them from casting the spell. And as added injury they stole the sword right out of Zayn’s hands and made off with it. The exertion of fighting to keep the sword of Gabriel in the glom, paired with the energy it took to attempt to cast the spell had seriously weakened Zayn.

It took all of Jada’s power to pull them both out of the glom and cast a stasis spell on Zayn to preserve his blood and keep him from cycling out early. Because Zayn had not been there to aid his bond mate, and because one of their most powerful was without a weapon, the battle was lost before it had begun. Zayn had only pulled through and made it out alive because of Jada and her life giving blood, cementing their bond. When he had come to they rushed to the scene of the battle hoping to lend their aid but by then it had been too late.

Zayn’s eyes were full of tears as he recounted finding his lifeless bond mate in the arms of an anguished Louis, the latter too torn up to listen to Zayn’s excuse for his absence, too hellbent on revenge to understand just how exposed and weakened the Coven now was without the protection of Gabriel. Louis had gone off after the remaining Silver Bloods in blind fury determined to avenge the death of his friend and as a result nearly died from the injuries he’d sustained.

“I bet Harry was furious.” Niall comments carefully, and Zayn nods, his lashes wet.

“He blamed me, and I didn’t argue. He blamed me for everything, and I couldn’t defend why I felt it would have been a just cause, how blindly I had believed that Jada and I alone were strong enough for such a spell. It was arrogant stupidity and it cost us all.”

He hangs his head, “that’s when I was excommunicated, and Jada and I decided to leave together, to continue to look for the sword in an attempt to right at least some of the wrongs we believed could be undone.”

“But so far, you’ve been unsuccessful.” It’s not a question but a statement Jada and Zayn can’t help but flinch at when Niall points it out.

“Well yes,” Zayn admits, “but we haven’t given up. We believe it is somewhere in Rome, and when we fly out tomorrow we’re reuniting with an old ally to continue our search. When we find the sword we can use it to cast that spell properly this time, we will need the aid of other Coven members of course but this time around we will know what to expect, what to prevent.”

A flood of compassion hits Niall in the chest at the distraught and horribly guilty look in Zayn’s eyes and in a split second it is almost as though he can feel the centuries of burden and shame Zayn has carried all this time as if it were his own.

“I never expected things to turn out this way, but Jada saved me. Rebuking the Coven was a painful and horrible experience, but if I chose to stay I wouldn’t be with her now, and I don’t think that’s a choice I could have lived with.” Zayn tells Niall.

His voice so close to a broken kind of begging it makes tears sting at Niall’s own eyes, “if there was ever a way to save Yvette, to go back and stop it all before it ever happened you have to believe I would do it.” The vampire whispers, anguished.

“I do believe you, and I believe you two were meant to be together. I’m just sorry it had to happen this way.” Niall says to the couple, and he means it.

There’s a part of him, this aching in his chest, an unknown emotion that he doesn’t feel belongs to him that tells him that everything did have to happen the way it did. Call it empathy or his Conduit Intuition, but he knows that these two people; these two souls needed each other and to have them separated would have only been too cruel.

“It goes without saying that we need you not to tell anyone right now. Harry has either forgotten in this lifetime or hasn’t chosen to address it and either way we’re not gonna poke holes into that. Liam has no idea and neither does Clementine and we really need it to stay that way.”

Zayn explains, pushing the shredded napkins away from himself and sitting up straighter, an edge of urgency to his tone and Jada nods in clear agreement with it.

“I can easily see everything going up in smoke if anyone else were to discover that right now so I will keep this secret, but I have conditions.” Sipping his beer, Niall levels a stern leaving-no room-for-arguments look at the pair.

“Name them.” Jada mimics him, taking another sip of her whisky, eyes careful and her lips pursed.

“I want to come with you to look for the sword.” Niall insists, ploughing straight ahead and talking louder when he sees Zayn is about to object with him,

“I’ve read everything in the Repository about it and I know I could be of tremendous help, and I don’t want Louis to go to Italy without me because I’m his Conduit and it’s my duty to protect and help him; I know he feels this trip would be too dangerous for me. If you take me with you, he can’t argue, because he won’t know.”

“So you want us to drag you along on a dangerous mission to locate a weapon that was stolen by a force much stronger than Jada and I centuries ago, and you want us to keep it a secret from your vampire who doesn’t even want you to come in the first place?”Zayn shakes his head in incredulous bemusement, “sure, why not? What could possibly go wrong?”

He and Jada exchange a long glance, the shifts in their expressions and the tension in their brows make it painfully obvious they’re having an argument in the glom and Niall huffs, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms over his chest tightly.

“Well, it’s either that or I could ‘accidentally’ tell Harry everything you just told me.” Niall suggests loftily, “take your pick.”

“That’s a pretty ballsy move Niall.” Jada sounds entertained and a little bit impressed, “why are you so insistent on coming?”

“I won’t let anything happen to Louis. And I may be a mere Red Blood but I can still help. I’m not useless you know.” He insists and Zayn frowns, looking down to the dance floor below them and the other two follow suit.

They look to where they can see Louis and Harry in a crush of bodies, Louis pressed close to a Red Blood he’s clearly selected for his Familiar while Harry watches on at the two dancing with a hungry kind of pride in his eyes.

“Nothing is going to happen to Louis with Harry around him.” Zayn tells Niall gently, “I don’t want to call your bluff Niall but I don’t want to risk your safety either. You may not want anything to happen to Louis, but Jada and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Take me with you.” Niall repeats stubbornly, “it’s not a request, Zayn.”

“Fine.” Jada speaks for them both shaking her head at Zayn when he looks like he’s about to argue further. “But you’ll need some training to protect you from potential outside influence in the glom and you have to listen to Zayn and I no matter what. We can keep you safe only as long as you agree to stick with us and not take any stupid and unnecessary risks.”

“Deal.” Niall says to her practically glowing with triumph.

The vampire beside him however still looks hesitant, opening his mouth again like he’s clearly about to say what he really thinks, but mercifully he’s interrupted by Liam and Clementine dropping into the seats across from their table. Liam is looking slightly put out and Clementine is looking like she’d rather be anywhere else as usual.

“We lost you guys.” Liam sounds hurt, “where did you disappear to?”

“We wanted a good eye on the situation below.” Zayn responds evasively, gesturing below him to where Harry and Louis are still dancing with a pair of liquored up Red Bloods, “we wanted to make sure they had backup but we didn’t want Louis to feel like we’re babysitting.”

“So he really hasn’t ever performed the Kiss before?” Clementine looks viciously entertained now, “I thought that was just a rumour.”

Her hands twitch over the bejewelled case of her iPhone, clearly tempted to spill this new tidbit of information with her fellow debutantes and gossip hags in her contacts.Niall throws back the rest of his beer in lieu of telling her what he really thinks of her tasteless attitude and behaviour. Judging by the nasty look she shoots him she hears it anyways, and Jada shakes her head at this, rising from the booth and grabbing at Niall’s wrist.

“Let’s get more drinks for the table,” she tugs impatiently as she speaks to him, and he rises with Jada, letting her tangle her fingers with his and pull him along to the bar on the ground floor.

Zayn catches her free hand to press a kiss to her knuckles as they pass and a spike of something bittersweet catches Niall by the chest when he sees the tender look the pair exchange.

“You two really love each other, don’t you.” Niall waits by the edge of the bar, watching Jada flag down a mixologist with an unfortunate moustache that Niall is praying is ironic. Jada turns back to Niall and nods, her eyes clouded with emotion.

“I never expected him to give up everything he’d ever known for me. At first I didn’t want him to.” The witch confesses, tugging at a strand of her hair caught in the choker part of her jumpsuit, “but I loved him so much.”

She sighs,“what happened in the glom wasn’t his fault; it was mine and he still shouldered the blame and he still let go of everything he knew in favour of me, how could I refuse him? I pitied Yvette, how she put her duty to her Coven before her love for Azrael, but I was still much younger than they were so I didn’t see the big picture. Her love was for her Coven and that was all she expected from her bond mate as well and he couldn’t do it. He didn’t love their Coven like she did and I think it disappointed her.”

Niall reaches over and helps detangle Jada’s hair from her choker, nodding in empathy, understanding the emotion in her voice, the desire to do the right thing, to do what you can for those who put themselves on the line for you. It was how he felt about Louis, how he was starting to feel about Zayn and Jada. Love came in so many forms, all individual, all as sacred as the next, all as encompassing and powerful.

“I get it.” Niall says to her quietly, “sometimes love means sacrifice.”

Jada stares at Niall for a moment or two, gaze puzzled like she’s trying to sort something out. She shakes her head and nabs the tray of drinks that had appeared at her elbow while she and Niall were speaking.

“I’m grateful for you, and I understand your desire to help us.” She murmurs gently to Niall, “but I mean it when I say you need to be careful and stick with me and Zayn no matter what. We would never forgive ourselves if something were to happen to you. And that’s besides mentioning what Louis would do if he ever found out.”

Jada balances the tray of drinks perfectly in one hand, taking Niall’s with her free one and they step away from the bar together, winding through the crush of people carefully to make their way to the spiral staircase in the middle of the club.

“I gave you my word. And that means something to me,” Niall says to her, raising his voice a little over the music and people loudly talking on the stairs.

He squeezes her fingers gently and stepping closer as they avoid a man tripping his way down past them, rushing by so quickly he nearly upsets their drinks.

“Trust me, it means something to Zayn and I as well.” Jada tells him as she tugs him away from the man and as a result Niall misses a step.

Catching her waist to maintain his balance he blushes, about to apologize but Jada merely beams at him. She rests her free hand on his waist as well, and they navigate the rest of the steps that way, approaching the booth to see Zayn and Liam in a deep and heated discussion, Clementine thankfully nowhere to be seen.

“I got your girl a skinny vodka soda, I know that’s the socialite drink of the moment.” Jada teases Liam, setting the tray down, “where did she wander off to?”

“She’s getting a snack, she’ll be back to wash it down with that cocktail, thank you Jada.” Liam sounds curt, his expression still hasn’t left Zayn’s face.

The aforementioned has leaned back with a small sigh of frustration, arms crossed tightly over his chest, body language clearly showing they’d been in an argument before his Familiar and Niall had returned. Jada slips back into the booth, sitting on Zayn’s lap and tilting his chin up to her to plant a soft slow kiss on his pout. He melts only ever so slightly under her touch but his eyes are still icy.

“Niall and I were only gone for a few minutes, what in the hell happened?” She asks her vampire, Zayn shakes his head back at her, unwilling to respond, and Liam sighs heavily, pushing back from the table and rising to his feet.

“You know Zayn, Clem isn’t at all the way you make her out to be, and when you’re ready to apologize let me know, but you really can’t be much of an expert in bond mates considering, well...”

Liam trails off, looking put out still but also deeply uncomfortable when Jada’s eyes flash with anger as she rounds her gaze onto Liam. Zayn’s gripping her by the thighs, his expression now wiped blank and emotionless, but Niall had seen the flash of hurt that had run through them when Liam was speaking.

“Liam, that’s uncalled for.” Niall is surprised at how steady his own voice comes out considering he’s trembling all over with fury for his friend, “what happened to Zayn’s bond mate wasn’t his fault, and you know that.”

“Do I?” Liam counters and then looks like he immediately regrets his words, “it’s just that none of us know what really happened, none of us can really say.”

“Silver Bloods are what happened.” Jada cuts in loudly and pointedly, her angry gaze still burning holes into Liam where he stands, “and if we don’t stop them they’re going to keep happening until there isn’t a single Coven left in the world. That’s the only thing we should be worried about.”

“And I agree with you!” Liam waves his hands above his head, “but the way you guys treat my bond mate is ridiculous!”

“The way she treats Niall is spiteful. I don’t have to like her.” Zayn’s eyes narrow, “and her apology —if you can even call it that— was lousy. So I will apologize when she does. Properly to Niall this time.”

Liam hangs his head and sighs. “Fine, whatever. Well I’m calling it a night, I’ll see you guys on Monday.”

Niall’s about to ask why he isn’t coming with them on the trip when he feels his own mind go blissfully blank, he stares down at his shoes while Jada is the only person to bid Liam a terse goodbye and he remains in place quietly until Liam has long left their company.

“What was that?” He exclaims to Jada and Zayn when the fog releases it’s fingers from his thoughts, the pair glancing back at him looking equal parts relieved and a little abashed.

“Liam doesn’t know we’re going to Italy and we really didn’t want you to let it slip, I’m sorry.” Jada explains to Niall gently, “we really need to train you on using the glom for communication and fast.”

“Don’t apologize, I get it.” Niall shakes his head like he’s trying to dislodge the fuzzy feeling that was still prickling at the back of his mind, “but that felt really weird.”

“A temporary yet necessary evil.” Zayn sighs, hands rubbing along Jada’s thighs as if to soothe himself, “anyone else feel like getting out of here?”

Niall is about to agree when a noise of bewilderment escapes Jada. She motions for Zayn and Niall to follow her line of vision and a cursory glance back at the dance floor shows that Louis and Harry are nowhere to be seen however and the trio seizes up.Jada looks desperately over at Zayn, who’s paled under the lights of the club and Niall can’t quell the anxious fluttering in his gut, his Conduit Intuition letting him know that something is very clearly wrong. 

**†**

By the time Louis and his newfound companion had stumbled into the alleyway behind the bar, tangled in a heated embrace, kissing sloppily and letting their hands wander under rucked up shirts, he’d realized he’d garnered himself a voyeur.

The sensation of such a familiar pair of eyes on him didn’t unsettle Louis in the slightest this time around however and he’d be the last to admit it, but he was most assuredly putting on a bit of a show.

_As much as I’m enjoying this, don’t you think you should get to the point already Uriel?_

Harry’s voice intrudes into Louis’ thoughts, rumbling with the usual timbre of his true self’s tone and Louis feels a ripple of yearning hit him, feeling almost weak in the knees as his mind wanders back to that all to hot memory he’d rediscovered in the shower earlier that evening.

With the scent of his soon too be Familiar’s blood thick and heady under his skin, —the warmth of his life source pumping under his veins—Louis crosses the boys’s wrists and pins him against the wall and he’s going a bit delirious with all the newfound sensations.

The memory underneath the waterfall, unbidden, leaks to the forefront of his mind as he grinds against the boy and moves his mouth to his neck.

_Uriel..._

Harry sounds bewildered, and a touch aroused. Louis knows he’s now witnessing the flashback Louis had been replaying in his head all night, trying oh so carefully to conceal from the other vampire.

It’s too late anyways so his focus is still on the task at hand, descending his Wisdom Teeth, mouth filling with saliva as he buries his face into the junction of neck and shoulder, where a vein is throbbing, blood all but singing under the skin for Louis to set it free. As the lad pinned underneath Louis swoons and wobbles in his grip, Louis holds him up by his chin and drinks him deeply. His body stiffens, feeling the sweet warm gush of blood well into his mouth and it’s truly like a new life is being breathed into him. The more he takes from the human, the more that latch he carefully put up to hold back the memories existing before his current cycle begins to weaken.

He’s swooning with the boy, a dull roar building in his ears, something in the back of his mind keeps tugging and pleading with him, something irritating and insignificant like a bothersome fly. It’s only when he’s ripped back from the boy, staggering with a snarl at the intrusion on his feeding that he realizes it was Harry who’d been shouting at him, all but crying for him to stop.   


“Louis please, you’re going to kill him!”

Louis’ face is drenched, his shirt completely soaked down the front in a deep dark red stain, the boy is in Harry’s arms twitching almost feebly while his bond mate stares at him with wet horror in his green eyes. Harry’s frantic, pressing his fingers down on the wound on the throat of the dark haired youth Louis had pulled away from the dance floor an hour ago, his hands shaking as he tries to soothe the boy who seems to currently be slipping into unconsciousness. Louis falls to his knees beside them both, distraught and too choked up to speak, let alone breathe.

“He’s going to be fine.” Zayn’s voice suddenly sounds from behind the small group huddled on the wet pavement just on the edges of the back door to the club, “Jada can fix him up and heal his bite.”

The woman is moving to Harry and the youth’s side before Louis even has a chance to ask how she would be able to do such a thing, his eyes are still glued to the poor Familiar, chest heaving for breath as his eyes flicker under heavy lids. Jada gently knocks Harry’s hands away and replaces them with her own, massaging the skin around the wound with agile fingers and murmuring lowly under her breath as she does, the flesh knits itself back together under her touch, looking nothing more than the innocent vampire/familiar bond mark it’s supposed to once she’s pulled her hands away moments later.

“How...” Louis breathes but Harry just looks sharply between Jada and Zayn like he’s connecting something still lost to Louis.

“ _Heibe_.” Harry all but spits, rising to his feet and scowling at the pair, “I can’t believe you.” He adds to Zayn in a thunderous voice, barely clinging to his human form in evident rage, “after everything we went through in the past because of you two.”

“Or the countless things we would have continued to go through in the future if it weren’t for her.” Zayn argues back, tugging Jada to her feet and pulling her behind him protectively, “she’s not the enemy Harry. She’s the love of my life. All of my lives, actually.”

“Will you all just stop this aggravating standoff until someone kindly explains to me what the fuck is going on?” Louis demands, tugging at Harry’s wrist and feeling a thrill of vindication when Harry actually stands down at Louis’ insistence. “Who cares about whatever past you clearly have with Zayn and Jada, she just saved my Familiar’s life.”

“And she’s on our side.” Niall flanks Jada with Zayn, his eyes moving over Harry’s aggressive stance in a way that shows he’s wary but unafraid of the ramifications of provoking the incensed vampire further, “in case that somehow slipped your notice.”

Harry looks like he has half a mind to still argue, but doesn’t when Zayn just exhales sharply and rolls his eyes, gesticulating around himself in an exasperated manner, “does this really seem like the time and place to have this conversation Abbadon?” Zayn demands of him in a quiet but authoritative tone, “look around you.”

“Harry,” Louis urges, “I want to leave and get this boy somewhere safe so we can look after him. Please.”

The taller vampire hovering protectively over Louis and his new Familiar closes his eyes tightly for a moment, when he finally opens them again he looks pained, but resigned.

“Fine. But I haven’t forgotten what we lost because of you.” Harry tells Zayn and Jada.

“Neither have we.” Jada retorts coldly, “and you’ve no idea what we’ve been through in order to try to right some of those wrongs. You’re not as all-knowing and powerful as you think you are Abbadon, and I haven’t forgotten what _I_ have lost because of _you_.”

Her voice becomes as brittle as damaged glass in that last sentence; words so sharp it causes Harry to actually flinch away from them.

As a tense silence falls over the group, Louis clears his throat loudly and impatiently. “So, can we leave now?” He gestures to the swooning boy at Harry’s feet, “this is still a life or death situation, I’m sure.”

“He’s not going to die.” Jada assures Louis from where she’s still being forced to stand behind Zayn, looking mildly irritated with her boyfriend’s overprotective behaviour, “he just needs a good night’s rest.”

“I assume you can take it from here.” Zayn adds coolly to Harry, “Jada and I have a flight to catch, and we’ll meet up with you lot in Verona.” He turns to leave, tugging Jada along with him, she shoots Louis an apologetic wince, and turns on her heel to walk away with her vampire without so much as a glance back to the group behind them.

Niall makes to follow them, hesitates and then sprints back to where Louis is kneeling to haul him up and work the buttons on the front of his bloodied shirt.

“Niall—” Louis makes to protest, but Niall shakes his head, putting his hand over Louis’ lips to shut him up while Harry kneels briefly then rises to his feet behind them, cradling the now relaxed Familiar in his arms.

“—take this guy to a hotel nearby so he can sleep it off. Then be sure to get on the next flight out. You can’t walk about looking like an extra in a Bloodied Knights movie so take my shirt and clean your face.” Niall shrugs out of his own button up, clearly comfortable as he was wearing a thin white tee underneath.

He slides his own jacket back on, shoves the shirt at Louis and squeezes his friend’s wrist. “Don’t beat yourself up Lou. It was an accident.” The brunette tells him gently.

Louis sheds his own shirt, tossing it into the dumpster by the edge of the club, watching curiously after Niall as he jogs away to follow Zayn and Jada and the three disappear into the cover of darkness, Zayn only giving pause to glance back at Harry with a murderous vehemence in his eyes that the stoic vampire beside Louis is all too keen to return.

Then they’re gone.

After a beat of silence, Louis looks down at the blood drying on his chest and hands, can only imagine what his face must look like, and turns to Harry, wringing the borrowed shirt from Niall in his hands in agitation.

“I need to go back inside and clean up.” Louis murmurs. “Will you take care of him?” He nods at the Familiar in Harry’s arms, “and then come back for me?”

Harry’s hard expression softens when he sees the look in Louis eyes and he nods gently, reaching over to cup Louis’ cheek, “Of course my love. And Niall was right you know. It was an accident, these kinds of things can happen if you’ve held off from what comes natural for far too long.”

It’s not an _I-told-you-so_ but it may as well have been.

The only thing keeping Louis from responding in kind with a barbed retort is the fact this situation could have been far worse if Harry hadn’t been there to stop him and there’s a block of ice in his stomach at the thought of it. He knows he can trust Harry with his life at this rate, but it’s a cold comfort considering everything else that has happened to transpire this evening. He knows there has to be a valid reason Harry is so furious with the fact that Jada has the kinds of powers she does and although Louis can ascertain he knows very little about witches, he doesn’t see the harm in her relationship with Zayn one bit and personally feels like Harry is being a tad extreme. He keeps these thoughts to himself however as he zips back inside the bar at _velox_ speed, making a beeline for the bathroom.

He gapes in horror for a moment at the reflection staring back at him in the cracked, graffitied mirror. He looks flushed and robust underneath the blood caking his face and chin, feels better than he’s ever felt in months, but at what cost? Looking at what he’s seeing, washing the excess life force of another’s off the surface of his skin; all Louis sees is a monster.

He dries himself off with paper towels, buttoning up Niall’s brightly patterned shirt and shrugging Harry’s slightly too large jacket overtop of it, he makes to leave without another look at himself when a soft groan sounds from one of the stalls behind him. Louis hesitates, almost certain it could just be a clandestine hook up that is absolutely none of his business as the shuffling and groaning increases in pitch, but something in his chest tells him otherwise.

Louis slips along to the edge of the room the toilet stalls line, so light on his feet he doesn’t make a sound, peering through the crack in the middle stall, his blood runs cold at the sight of a Blue Blood laying limply back on the toilet, head thrown back at an unnatural angle, eyes wide and unseeing as a hulking beast looms over him.

A Silver Blood, taking a victim in this very bathroom, mere feet away from Uriel, the light of God. His blood boils in fury. He knows he should really go and find Harry but by that point it may very well be too late. He calls to his true form, feeling himself grow in height and strength, aided by the life-giving force from his Familiar; Uriel has never felt more indestructible in this cycle as he does in this moment.

He cleaves the door in two with a screech of fury, brandishing his vampire blade over the head of the Silver Blood and is thrilled when the foul beast whips around in surprise, rising its own much cruder weapon to clash against Uriel’s. Its ghastly crimson and silver eyes widen in shock and fear to see just exactly who it’s adversary happened to be.

“ _Uriel?! Impossible!_ ” It snarls in a voice like a snake’s belly sliding across the dirt, “ _you cannot be at full strength yet, and you dare to fight me?_ ”

“ _I don’t need to be past my Sunset Years to send a lowly worm back to Hell_.” Uriel thunders back, parrying each thrust aimed at him.

They circle each other like vultures, crashing sinks to the floor and shattering mirrors, the Silver Blood keeps changing forms from a large serpent, to an enormous slavering minotaur, back to its own hulking demonic shape, eyes blazing and wielding what appears to be a crudely hewn Venetian war hammer. It lunges, swinging the studded end towards Uriel and raking his face twice. Uriel bites back a scream as he feels his skin split open, the hot gush of his own blood running down his face and into his eyes. He wipes his face impatiently, ignoring the sting it garners to do so in favour of visibility. He beats his enormous wings with a screech of fury, causing the creature he bears down upon to stagger backwards from the gale force like wind they create in the tiny space. The Silver Blood responds by leaping upwards, tearing a sink from the wall, attempting to bring the hunk of porcelain down to break over Uriel’s back. He just misses, and Uriel dances away from his adversary, fully aware he’s bitten off more than he can chew at this rate, but if Uriel remembered correctly, there was one way to kill these bastards, and he only had the one shot.

The Angel cringes back from the third blow, only narrowly missing a far more lethal strike and he knows his enemy is gaining speed and an unwarranted confidence Uriel plans to use to his advantage —Silver Bloods were all brute force and no strategy after all— he makes to dive underneath the beast’s reach and thrust his sword upwards, but he’s knocked away by the Silver Blood’s hammer, crashing down onto him to cleave skin from bone on his shoulder in a fell swoop. Uriel curses loudly, and shrinks himself back into a corner, curling his wings about himself protectively as if in surrender while his sharp eyes zero in on the Silver Blood’s weakest point, poised to let the beast come as close as possible for him to pierce it.

By the time the enemy has leapt forwards, raising both hands above its head, clenching it’s hammer, ready to bring the weapon down upon where it thinks Uriel is cowering from it on the floor, Uriel leaps forwards, driving the blade of his _Ferrum Luminis_ into the heart of the Silver Blood; burying it all the way up to the hilt with a snarl of vengeance on his lips as he puts the force of his weight behind the killing blow.

With a howl of agony and flash of light, sucked in towards the source of the entry wound Uriel has created, the life force of the Silver Blood disappears into a vacuum; mimicking the appearance of a miniature black hole momentarily and with a rattle of wind and the rushing sweep of an unseen force, a pile of bones clatter to the feet of one Louis Tomlinson, who is leaning back against the wall of a tarnished bathroom in the club, bleeding heavily from two long cuts across his brow and a gash on his left shoulder.

Chest heaving with exertion he stumbles over the bones, kicking them and piles of warped metal out of the way to collapse against the wall of the stall where the lifeless form of a Blue Blood boy no older than fifteen is laying. In the same moment the bathroom door flies open and Harry staggers in, eyes round with fear as he takes in the sight before him. 

“I was gone for five minutes. What in the hell happened?” The lad croaks in horror, looking for all the world like he wants to rush to Louis’ side, were it not for the tremor in his legs making it impossible for him to move, “tell me you did not just try to fight a Silver Blood on your own. _Lou_.”

“I didn’t _try_ anything. I killed it.” Louis snarls, gesturing to the bones behind him, his eyes never leaving the lifeless form crumpled in the stall by his ankles, “I was trying to save this boy, but I think I was too late.”

Harry staggers to Louis, hardly sparing a glance at the bones on the floor or looking to poor Blue Blood at his bond mate’s feet. He just cups Louis’ face in his hands, thumbing over the slowly healing cuts on his face, pressing his lips above them, eyes screwed shut and his head bowed as he trembles, the very essence of his true form fluttering agitatedly underneath his skin, and Louis wills for his bond mate to calm down.

“That was very foolish of you Uriel, you haven’t fought such a being like that in a very long time. You could have died.” Harry whispers against Louis’ cheek, and Louis feels the wetness of the tears clinging to Harry’s lashes as they brush his face, the vampire pulling him closer and rubbing his lips over Louis’ jawline, cradling his head in shaking hands. “You should have called out to me, why didn’t you?”

Louis leans into the embrace for a moment, wanting the comfort being offered to him more than anything, but given the urgency of the situation he regretfully pushes Harry off of him, stooping to collect the broken body of the youth in his arms.

“There was no time.” He answers Harry tersely, “it was all I could do to fend it off once I revealed myself.”

He checks for a pulse and his heart leaps with relief. There was no saving the body at this point, a travesty for this vampire in this current cycle but his blood could be saved. He would in a way, still live.

“We need to take this boy to the Council.” Louis looks to Harry in urgency, “quickly, while his blood is still alive.”

Harry reaches out and helps Louis drape the boy’s arms over their shoulders. “It may be impossible to reach them at this hour. We should just take him to the manor and save his blood ourselves.”

His clear disdain for the Elder Council is evident in his tone. Usually Louis would agree with such a sentiment but a life or death situation such as this one changed things. First his Familiar, and now this poor youth, Louis would be dammed if there was anymore unnecessary bloodshed this eve, especially because of him.

“But I don’t remember how to save blood memories,” Louis says to Harry as they gently manoeuvre the broken body of the youth between them from the mess that was once the men’s room, “I haven’t had a need to perform such a procedure in this cycle yet.”

“I have.” Harry’s voice is quiet, cloaked in distress. “My cycle sister was attacked last year. I can do this, trust me.” His eyes are filled with ghosts, but his shields are up from Louis for once, keeping him at bay in a way that puzzles and saddens Louis a touch but he doesn’t argue or pry. There isn’t any time for that.

“Fine, but let’s get a move on. I can feel his blood weakening with every passing second.” Louis ploughs ahead, tightening his grip on the motionless figure suspended between Harry and himself.

The odd group slip wordlessly out of the pulsing club as they both give the strong suggestion to the building’s occupants to look anywhere but in their direction, and somehow Harry’s car is already waiting for them at the curb, the driver’s face impassive at the sight before her. She says nothing, and once they’re all piled in she whips the car around and all but flies through the backstreets, navigating a shortcut back to the manor on Riverside in record time.

When they pull up to the manor, Harry stiffens in his seat, cocking his head towards the house and narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Well we don’t have to worry about taking this boy to the Elder Council. They’re already here.” Harry hisses to Louis, his eyes glittering with fury in the half light of the large ornate lanterns posted on either side of the manor’s front gates. Louis reaches over and takes Harry’s hand in his own.

“They’ll have to help us then. Let’s not worry about why they’re here right now. That’s not as important as saving this Blue Blood.” He urges, trying to convince Harry of the more important issue they’re currently dealing with and further confused when Harry shakes Louis off of him.

The irritability is rolling off Harry in waves as he lets himself out of the vehicle. His ministrations are still gentle however when he pulls the victim out of the car and carries him over his shoulder. Louis follows them wordlessly into the manor, bypassing them to instinctively head for the elaborately furnished dining hall, knowing that is exactly where the Elder Council is lying in wait for them.

The dining room is flickering with candlelight, casting long shadows of four members the Elder Council on the wall behind where they’re huddled in a clump at the end of the table.

“You know, there’s this modern invention called the telephone. Far more appropriate and useful than a house call in the dead of the night.” Louis addresses the room coolly as he enters, crossing his arms and standing at the opposite end of the table, eyes narrowed in suspicion at the small group. “Not to make a trope out of the very stereotype we tend perpetrate to Red Bloods, but I don’t recall inviting you lot in.”

“We know about the incident at the Bank tonight Uriel.” Amos stands, immediately in no mood for the sarcasm he’s being treated with; eyes flashing in cold contempt as he stares Louis down, “you’re in several violations of the vampiric code, and you nearly killed a Red Blood tonight, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“By ‘incident’ I’d rather hoped you were referring to the moment Uriel killed a Silver Blood in the bathrooms at the Bank tonight, but I see you’re still very pointedly looking at the things that aren’t of any real consequence. The Red Blood is fine, if you’d bothered to spy on us thoroughly enough you’d know that. I can’t say the same for one of our own here.”

Harry’s voice sounds behind Louis as he’s entered the room, gently laying down the youth he’s speaking of onto the table before lifting his head to shoot a furious glare down the length of the table at Margery as he berates the Coven members congregated at the other end. “Can I trust you to save blood memories properly this time around or do Uriel and I have to do everything ourselves?”

Margery looks horrified as she sweeps the length of the table to appraise the lifeless youth before the Elder Council. The other three, Amos, councilman Fabian Kennedy and councilwoman Alondra Hepworth stand rigid, mouths agape as if they can scarcely believe what they are seeing.

“This was clearly a Silver Blood attack.” Margery informs the others —needlessly in Louis opinion— as she examines the wounds decorating the throat of the youth, “it’s happening again.”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you.” Louis exclaims, exasperated “how many more of our kind have to die before you listen to us?” He chokes up before he’s finished speaking staggering backwards from the table, the shadows dancing around the room makes the youth much more smaller and weak than he’d appeared during the Silver Blood attack.

Harry’s hands reach out to steady Louis, and although his hands are warm and comforting, Louis is still stinging from the lack of reception from his own earlier attempt to comfort Harry and he shoves the lads hands from his shoulders with a hiss of annoyance.

 _You don’t need to baby me, I’m fine._ He thinks curtly, only lowering his shields for Harry.

_You’ve been weird with me all night Uriel, if this is about the flashback you had in the shower—_

_—We aren’t talking about that right now._

Louis clears his throat, willing his shields back up immediately and Harry’s posture stiffens like he’s resolute in the issue at hand, but his eyes keep darting to Louis desperately.

He knows they’ll need to talk soon, but for now he just wants to know what the Elders are doing in his house and how rude of him would it be to demand that they leave immediately.Before Louis can press the issue further however, Waldorf sweeps into the room seemingly out of nowhere, eyes narrowed and his hands folded behind his back. He stops in a halt of shock at the sight of Harry and Louis and the body of the Blue Blood youth Margery is hovering over as she preforms a complicated bit of spell work to save the remaining blood memories within the vessel.

“What the hell happened?” He demands of the group and Amos shakes his head in response to his frenzied query, his expression grave and regretful as he purveys the scene before them.

“We were arrogant in our belief we were safe this time around. We must call for a Conclave and make the remaining youths aware. We are not safe.” Amos declares, “the Silver Bloods have returned, and we clearly have a traitor in our midst.”

“You say that like this is brand new information.” Harry comments dryly, “your willfulness to ignore what had been so clearly in front of you for so long is what has further contributed to our plight Amos, and do not be surprised when we call for your resignation. You aren’t fit to stand in my fathers place as Regent any longer, as you have all but led us to ruin.”

Waldorf looks smug at Harry’s denunciations, but the look of superiority slips when Harry adds; “I will be calling for not only yours but your entire council’s resignation.”

“Be reasonable Abbadon.” Waldorf protests, “there is no way you can get the entire Four Hundred to agree to such a vote.”

“No?”

Harry is the one who is smug now, “after everything you lot knew and ignored? You think the rest of the Coven won’t be clamouring to have your blood burned and your bones tossed to the wind? Your very arrogance is what will lead them to that decision, and as the stand in Regent by default I don’t think I will have it in me to stop them.”

The rest of the Elders flinch back at Harry’s words, but Waldorf merely stares back in contemptuous disbelief.

“You wouldn’t dare,” the irate older vampire spits bravely.

“Your lessons were incessantly dull, I don’t think anyone would miss them.” Louis comments mildly, in an almost bored defence of Harry, “he’s got my vote.”

“You make light of a dire situation, Uriel.” Waldorf starts angrily but Louis holds up a commanding hand, letting his true form’s shadow hang on the wall behind him, and the Elders all stiffen in immediate fear as he does.

“Like you once made light of the situation that we are now finding ourselves in the midst of? The very situation I instructed your lot to prevent? Do not jest with me, I have no patience for hypocrites, and I will not entertain the likes of them in my home. You may see yourselves out now. It’s been a gruelling evening and you are not welcome here.”

Louis informs the room at large in a tone that holds no room for protestations, “Malachi you may finish the work you’ve started on those blood memories, and then take your leave. The rest of you; leave my house now, and don’t return unless Abbadon or I allow you to.”

The Elders stir, still looking like they want to argue, but Louis’ ire has reminded them of how fragile their place in the Coven stands to be as of this moment on and they file out wordlessly without argument, even Waldorf, although he does cast a furious glance as he leaves, which Louis only treats with the most disdainful scorn.

The room is silent as Margery works over the boy, standing after a few more moments a vial of sapphire blood in hand. She says nothing to Harry or Louis, just nods at them and backs out into the hallway, motioning for Fabian and Alondra to help her carry the corpse out of the room.

Louis has half a mind to tell them to leave the blood memories here because he doesn’t trust them to protect them properly, but he knows there is a due process and that the cycle parents of the boy’s family need to be made aware. He sighs heavily as he hears the definite click of his front door closing behind the party of unwelcome guests making their exit.

It’s only him and Harry now and somehow that makes the dining room seem enormous in the growing dark as some of the candles begin to splutter and die.

“We need to talk.”

Harry’s voice is firm and his eyes are hard as he casts his gaze on Louis, “there is an awful lot at stake here and I don’t think we can move forwards as a unit capable of protecting our Coven if we can’t at least work together. I feel like you don’t trust me still, and that won’t do; our very survival relies on our working together for the sake of the rest of our people. Even if we never bond again in this lifetime or the next, I still need to know that you trust me.”

“After what I’ve seen tonight I would be crazy not to trust you.” Louis admits, stepping closer to Harry gesturing feebly with his hands as he speaks, “that flashback just threw me a little, you have to understand how confused it made me.”

“We loved each other.” Harry says to him eyes wide and searching, never leaving Louis’ face, “tell me, what’s so confusing about that?”

His voice is almost melancholy; but he still stares determinedly at the vampire across from him, clearly sick of the way Louis has been dancing around this topic all evening, “you’re going to have memories like that coming back more frequently you know, and we had a very healthy sexual relationship, what you saw was tame in comparison to others.”

“I suppose I wasn’t expecting one so sensual like that right off the bat.” Louis admits with a shy blush, remembering the heat of Harry’s touch, the fire in his gaze, the almost sticky heat garnered by the friction of his body pressed against Louis’ own, “it was...vivid to say the least.”

“We built entire civilizations together and in doing so we also built our lives together, Louis.”

Harry pulls out a chair and takes a slow seat into it, gesturing for Louis to do the same in the one across from him. Louis follows suit wordlessly, propping his chin in his hands while he waited for Harry to elaborate on his tangent.

“Every memory I’ve uncovered has been comprised of my lifetimes spent with you, and I’ve enjoyed rediscovering them, forgive me for not understanding why it’s harder for you to wrap your head around. I was thrilled to rediscover you were my bond mate. I’ve never loved anyone else, and I don’t think I would want to.” Harry steeples his fingers and levels Louis with a stern but kind gaze across the dining table. “I’m not going to pressure you to start seeing things my way, I just want you to understand where it is I’m coming from.”

“You can’t possibly love me based off of memories of me,” Louis protests, “that makes very little sense.”

He’s trying his best to remain logical but the words sound defeated even to his own ears, since the incident earlier, since the moment he finally had drunk from the vein, something deep with Louis had begun to stir and he was looking across the table at someone he spent so much of his time avoiding, wondering why in the hell he’d ever chosen to be so cold to him in the first place.

“And yet I do love you.” Harry says to him, “I love you with everything that I am, and everything I have ever been, and it doesn’t have to make sense to me. I just have to feel it.”

He reaches across the table to Louis, stops briefly and rests his palms flat on the burnished surface instead, smiling tiredly across the space between them, only a handful of feet, but in that moment it feels more like miles.

Louis bridges the gap without any hesitation for once, he wants to feel the warmth of his Dark Angel’s touch, there is a millennia of yearning living under his skin that bites at him like a deadly frost. It’s soothed by the brush of his skin against Abbadon’s, and Louis knows there are far more memories living underneath his flesh and for once he wants to let go of his human concerns and see it for what it truly is.

“Are you sure?” His bond mate looks at him warily, “I’ve come to remember an awful lot more in my current cycle than you have, Louis. This could be overwhelming for you.”

“I don’t care.” He breathes back, “it’s time I knew. And please call me Uriel. That is my real name after all.”

A gasp of elation escapes Abbadon’s lips at the words he’s met with, he flips his hands carefully underneath Uriel’s own so they can twine them properly.

His face is distorted underneath the faint flicker of the last candle burning down to its wick but he remains as easy to see as if he was in the sunlight; his _Lux Aeterna_ casting him in a burnished golden glow.

 _Ready?_

He sends his beloved, a ripple of something already tickling underneath the surface where their palms are connected and Uriel can’t wait to see what it is.

_Yes. Show me._

He takes a deep breath, sheds his vessel and dives in.

**†**

**to be continued...**

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the series ‘Blue Bloods’ by Melissa De La Cruz but I wish I did because it wasn’t gay enough hence why this fic came to fruition.
> 
> Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are the product of my imagination of how powerful this series could have been with gay vampires. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> (( if you have further inquiries you can reach me at https://louiehonie.tumblr.com/ ))


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